


Once Upon a Dream

by thefloralpeach



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dark Character, Dark! Marco, M/M, Possibly more characters later, Temporary Character Death, dark!Jean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefloralpeach/pseuds/thefloralpeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could have happened to Marco to get him to go dark?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love love love Dark!Marco, so I got to thinking, what would be his back story? So that's what this is! I'm really not good at multi-chapter fics but I promise I'll try my best! I'm actually getting really into this one so I think it'll turn out okay. Title inspired by this [lovely song](http://freckledbodtsoldier.tumblr.com/post/77857978763/another-downpitch-for-dark-marco-i-really-like).

"It's like nothing we've ever seen before…"

 

The two stood, glued to the newly apparent information presenting itself in front of them. Outside the stuffy room loud cacophonies of dying comrades roared. A map, a list of incidents, witness reports- everything was lying on the table in front of them, screaming a truth that neither could bear to believe. The attacks have become more frequent and more brutal. They could handle-or, they could prepare themselves for, at least- the typical attacks. Titans enter the city, aim to eat people, need to be stopped, the usual. This, however, was unlike anything anyone has ever seen.

Hanji paused to think, then threw her hands up in both confusion and despair.        

"I don't understand! Titans can't think like that, their minds aren't developed to that extent!"

Levi remained bewildered, reading over the information for what could very well be the twelfth time since Hanji had shown him what had been gathered.

"These deaths are not random, Levi. There's a pattern of sorts, almost as if… as if these people…" she trailed off, intently staring at the papers splayed in front of her.

"They're being targeted…" Levi finished the thought.

* * *

 

"Over here!" Jean yelled, beckoning his fellow cadet to follow him.

Nothing too serious- two normal 10-meter classes, walking far enough apart from each other that it wasn't too dangerous to go after the both of them. They were slow and stupid, big surprise. But, it meant they were normal. He and Marco had taken worse before.        

Over the years he'd figured out that he and Marco made quite the team. Training together and spending most of their free time with each other, they were synchronized at this point. Jean knew how Marco worked- how he fought, where he would strike and how he would move swiftly to take titans down, and he used that knowledge to maneuver around him, picking up wherever Marco left off. As long as they were together, it seemed, titans didn't stand a chance.

Though, he had to admit, it seemed like lately it was getting worse. There seemed to be more titans than there should be, more abnormals specifically. The pests were annoying enough in the first place, now they just had to go and make it even worse. There was barely anywhere in any of the cities overrun by titans that was safe or escapable. Few buildings to rest on or in, few corners to hide, few spaces to run. Basically, what that meant was you didn't want to be on the ground, and you definitely didn't want to be out of gas.

Like that guy over there.

About to be titan food… poor guy didn't even stand a chance.

Marco began running towards Jean, listening to his call from before, then picked up his speed suddenly. He must have seen the man quickly nearing the mouth of the beast and thought he could do something about it. He must have thought he actually had a chance to save him. Of course, he didn't, Jean knew that. That guy was as good as gone. But, Marco still had that look on his face- that heartbreaking combination of determination and knowledge that he'd already failed.  Jean followed and matched his pace; those titans would have to die either way.

The man was basically dead at this point, caught inside the titan's mouth. Jean glanced over at Marco, face falling a little as Marco's did. Another person he couldn't save. Jean had learned to ignore it. Hell, he had to. This world was cruel, this world was unforgiving, and this world didn't care if somebody died. Marco, however, always tried to stay hopeful. Seeing such an idealistic person looking like that could depress anyone. How he managed his constant hope, Jean had absolutely no idea, but he had to admit it put him in a state of awe at some times, and a state of gloom at others, when he knew that hope was being challenged.

Marco leapt up and fired his gear- Jean knew exactly what to do now. The movements felt automatic at this point.

Let Marco hop up. He could distract it, moving around in front of it but cautiously avoiding its  mouth and hands. He was graceful with his maneuver gear, able to work swiftly and quickly.

Maneuver around the titan.

Remain unseen. Don't let it notice you.

Get a clear shot at its neck.

Hook and slice.

One down, one to go. And then about a thousand more. And then on to the next city.

Jean ran in front of it, luring it towards him.

Let it come to you. Let it think it has you.

Move a little out of the way, be cautious.

Okay, move a LOT out of the way to avoid being crushed by its falling body. Marco got it.

Jean maneuvered up onto a building to search out more, quickly checking to make sure Marco was right there behind him.

He was.

He always was.

The titan situation had gotten bad. Well, worse. The trainee corps threw the cadets into battle as soon as their training was completed with the other experienced soldiers, since their numbers had been deteriorating at an alarmingly fast rate. It was pretty much slaughter out there. Well, it always it, but again, it'd gotten even worse. So, as a result, the cadets had to learn fast. Learn or die. Yeah, it sucked, but that's life.

"Alright, which one you wanna go for next? There's a group of smaller ones over there, one 15 meter class over there probably surrounded by other ones…that one over there looks like an aberrant-" Jean mused.

He was cut off by a signal flare. Retreat back to the base… wait, retreat back to the base? There were still titans everywhere, did they really just call everyone back?

Well, actually, considering that probably more than several people died because they ran out of gas, maybe a retreat wasn't such a bad idea.

"Guess that'll have to wait," Marco said as he began rushing towards the flare.

Jean followed, maneuvering through the buildings and rooftops besides Marco and reaching the base quickly.

"Why do you think they called us back so soon?" Marco wondered.

Usually, Jean would have some sort of witty or asshole-ish remark for him. This time he just stayed quiet, especially since an official was heading their way.

And apparently stopping to talk to them?

That was a little strange… why would they care about a couple of cadets?

She had looked frantic, more frantic than officers would usually show. She was looking around, seemingly searching for someone before her eyes landed on the two.

"You two!" The woman gestured to them. "Identify yourselves, cadets." She demanded.

"Cadet Marco Bodt of the 104th Trainee corps!" He saluted as he spoke.

"Cadet Jean Kirschtein of the 104th Trainee corps," Jean followed suit, saluting at her as well, though still confused and with less enthusiasm than the officers usually like to see. If they wanted to punish him now, with titans swarming literally everywhere, then let them.

The woman didn't even notice, still in her bit of panic.

That was unsettling…

"At ease. You both have been ranked in the top ten, correct?"

"Yes ma'am, that is correct." Marco answered.

He was better at handling the talking, especially to those of higher-ranks. Jean didn't always handle that so well. Ranks aside, an asshole is an asshole, and Jean did not care enough to take the time to discern between ranks when talking back. Marco was somehow able to keep his cool, even around the assholes.

So, Marco handled the talking.

"Good, at least we can get some sort of authority," she mumbled

Jean glanced over at Marco, kind of hoping he was just as confused. Judging by his face, he was. The woman noticed and was oh so kind enough to explain.

"Seeing as you've ranked in the top ten, I assume you'll be trustworthy for the mission I'm about to assign you. As you know, this titan situation is more than we've ever handled before. I need you to take this letter to the king, requesting the use of his military police in full. Use your maneuver gear to reach the interior as quickly as possible. Can you do that?" She spoke quickly, hurriedly,  and sternly.

Jean was left staring at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as if she had three heads. Why was she asking a couple of cadets on a mission this important?

"Yes Ma'am." Marco replied in the same serious voice.

They didn't really have the option to say no.

"Good. You two have permission to use your gear to arrive as quickly as possible. This is a very important task, make sure it gets done." There was a tinge of a warning to her tone.

She handed Marco the letter and was about to turn away, as were they, but the question wouldn't leave Jean's mind. It was edging away at him through their instructions and ever since she began talking to them. He couldn't help it-

"Why us?"

Maybe he could have managed that more eloquently, but it got the point across nonetheless.

The officer turned back around, worried look on her face growing more apparent. She was losing her ability to keep calm; the situation must have been that bad.

She didn't even scold him for questioning her.

"Because we're losing numbers. We need everyone we can here to fight. You two were the best candidates and the first I could find. I trust you'll complete this assignment as quickly as possible, cadets." She nodded at them in solemn understanding, then turned to leave again, running off to who knows where.

Jean nodded back, as did Marco, and saluted her as she left.

"Well that's not unsettling at all," Jean turned his head towards Marco and said sarcastically.

"Not at all," Marco played into the sarcasm, but looked just as nervous as Jean felt. "Come on. Let's get going."

They stopped briefly to refill their gas tanks before leaving, strapping extra tanks on their gear just in case they needed them.

"Think this'll be enough?" Marco asked with two extra gas tanks.

"Yeah, that's more than enough. Just as long as we don't encounter too many on the way."

Marco sighed. "We can only hope for that…"

He was right. Hoping to not encounter titans was a pretty far-off dream.

They made their way out of the base, taking their time. Neither of them really wanted to go back out there- no one really did, of course. As they walked, Jean could sense that Marco was just as worried as he was about this whole thing, maybe even more. He was tense, not the usual I'm-a-soldier-and-being-professional tense, but apprehensive. Jean really couldn't blame him, hell, no one could.

"Oi, Marco, don't worry so much, yeah? We've taken down plenty of titans before, we'll handle whatever's in our path," he put a hand on Marco's shoulder to reassure him, which got his attention and made him turn his head to Jean.

His face was contorted in worry, but melted into his signature Marco Smile rather quickly.

"You're right… and besides-"

"And plus, you'll have me!" Jean cut him off and offered an arrogant smirk with his words.

That seemed to calm Marco more. Joking around or being light in serious situations had proven to be a relaxer for the both of them, and now, it definitely eased some tensions. Jean was the first to keep walking and return the pair to their mission, followed closely by Marco, who grasped the letter tightly in his hand as if it were of the upmost importance. Which, Jean remembered, it kind of was.

They finally reached the harsh light of outside after a few more moments of walking, cringing a little at the shift in brightness before continuing on, still slower than they should. Jean knew they should be hurrying, and he knew Marco knew as well, but really, would it be so bad to relax every now and then?

Marco sighed from next to him, looking at the letter, seemingly studying it.

"I suppose we should get going… if we leave right now, think we could get there by sundown?" Marco wondered.

"Probably," Jean agreed, shrugging his shoulders, trying to appear as casual as possible.

He wasn't exactly sure why he did this. Why he always did this. Why he always wanted to make it seem as if he cared as little as possible. Most people couldn't stand it.

And then there was Marco.

"Alright," he sighed. "Let's go." And with that, he anchored his hooks into a nearby building and took off, knowing Jean wouldn't be far behind.

He wasn't. He moved gracefully, easily, like he'd done a thousand times before. Even given the grim situation, maneuver gear was one of Jean's favorite things in the world. Using it came naturally to him, flying around and moving perfectly around his obstacles. The same couldn't be said for others. For Jean, it was freedom, some of the only freedom one could get within the confines of these walls and the titans. Freedom in this situation was flight, maneuvering through the air with ease.

Freedom was also what little friendship one could get, which, in Jean's case, was almost exclusively Marco. There were others, sure; he was pretty close with Armin, and managed an awkward friendship with Connie and Sasha, but it wasn't Marco friendship. That was freedom. They could anticipate each others' movements without ever speaking a word, and communicate in comfortable silence. In their three years of training, it was as if they had become one with the other, and, in all honesty, it was really, really nice. It was refreshing to have something so wholesome in such a tainted world.

Jean kept an easy pace with Marco as they flew. Conversation wasn't easy while in the air, so they kept a silence. However, this one wasn't their usual comfortable silence; it was filled with solemn thought and contemplation. It was filled with knowledge that this situation was worse than anybody had ever thought it would be. It was a silence that forced you to think, to remember everything horrible that had ever happened, to reflect upon yourself and your past. And, unfortunately, Jean fell into it. That's exactly what he did.

The usual self-doubtful thoughts- I shouldn't have been a leader. I've only led people to their deaths. I shouldn't even be in the top ten, let alone the military police- filled his head.

He found himself staring at Marco to snap him out of it. Even deep in thought, the peacefulness of his face was evident, and that alone could calm anyone down. And for him, it did.

_Focus on the task at hand. This, then maybe a little more fighting, then it's off to the Military Police for you._

Jean tried to reassure himself.

He and Marco flew in silence, maneuvering around buildings and cities for hours until they finally reached the castle in the interior of Wall Sina. Before sunset, just as they'd predicted.

Once they landed, each swiftly connecting their hooks lower and lower until they could safely reach the ground, Marco's eyes widened.

"So… this is it," he nearly whispered, face completely swarmed by admiration of it all.

Yeah, Jean wanted to live here too, but… Marco was a little more sincere about it.

Jean just wanted to save his ass. Marco could appreciate the beauty.

"Yeah," Jean responded, although it was barely a response.

They walked over to some soldiers, saluting as Jean tried his best to keep down his complaints at the way they stared down the cadets, as if they were really so much lower than them. Really, they were all in the same shitty situation.

Regardless, Marco stood straight and proud, standing his ground and exuding respect that may or may not actually be present. Jean, on the other hand, held a somewhat sloppy salute and stared with an uncaring gaze.  Marco spoke calmly, professionally; how he did so was a mystery to Jean.

"We have a message straight from the Garrison. We request to see and speak to the King immediately. This is urgent."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Why so melancholy? A wondrous future lies before you - you, the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true."_   
>  _-Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty_

They were resistant at first. They insisted that it wasn't important before they even knew what 'it' was. Marco was as polite as ever, speaking formally and never too out of turn, keeping his voice low and obviously trying to contain his growing annoyance at the constant refusals.

A few more soldiers came to try and step in, one of them seeming to actually listen. But that was only one out of however many soldiers there were.

Jean kinda hated the Military Police.

But that didn't change his intentions of joining and living safely, happily ever after with Marco safe inside the walls.

Eventually he had to step in, having enough of this.

"Look," he said sternly, but to the one who appeared like he would listen. "This comes from the Garrison, not us. It's an order for help. Just let us see the King, he can shoo us out if the bastard's so-"

"He can tell us to leave, and we'll listen. But people are dying, and the entirety of this kingdom is in danger. Please," Marco cut in, graciously sparing Jean from the consequences of what he would probably say had he been allowed to continue speaking.

He pleaded with them, using the innocence visible in his features to his convenience and… were those freaking puppy dog eyes?

Hell, Jean wouldn't have been able to resist.

"Fine."

Apparently neither could they. Jean noticed the glint of satisfaction cross Marco's face.

"I'll escort you both to the King's meeting room- he's in a conference at the moment. You're not to make a sound, and you're to wait until he is ready to see you. If he declines, then you are to leave immediately," the soldier explained as he walked, waving to some guards to open the gates to allow them all through.

Jean felt himself becoming angrier as every word, and he could sense that Marco was losing his calmness as well, and rather quickly, as it seemed. Had this soldier even heard them? People were dying! People were dying horribly at the hands of titans, and one quick word could spare so much pain, so much death, and so much loss.

He was nearly fuming as they continued walking through the castle.

He really hated the Military Police.

"Don't you understand?"

Jean was surprised at the words, sourced from Marco's lips. Marco never spoke up out of turn. Ever. He was the respectful one, the Goody-Two-Shoes. Not in a terribly bad way, but still… Jean was legitimately shocked that Marco would even think to say this. The soldier turned to eye the voice, apparently shocked as well when landing on Marco, but continued leading them.

"Understand what, cadet?" He spoke the last word with a hint of bitterness that made Jean scowl even more at the man.

"People are out there, dying. As we speak, they're dying. As the King chats in his meeting, they're dying." He spoke, emotionless in tone and facial expression.

"There's nothing I can do about that." The soldier merely dismissed Marco's words.

He dismissed the horror. The death, the pain, the loss. He dismissed it because it was not something he himself had to experience, and thus it didn't exist to him.

Marco scoffed.

Marco _scoffed._

"Of course you can!" He began losing control of his voice. That rarely ever happened. Come to think of it… in their three years of training, Jean couldn't remember it happening even once.

"Excuse me?" The soldier was incredulous and stunned at the words, and honestly, so was Jean.

"You can hurry us to the king! You can interrupt his little _meeting_ ," he said the word with disgust. "You can act like this is important!"

"Listen here, _cadet_ ," he spat out the word as if it were an insult. "You're lucky to even be standing in these halls, understand? You're lucky I'm even taking you to the King. He has better business than dealing with pests. He is a noble man, and his decision is law, whether you like it or not. Do I make myself clear?"

Marco's jaw was clenched, and his fists were balled up at his sides in an anger Jean never knew he could harbor. Nevertheless, he swallowed his words, and returned to the polite silence Jean was used to from him.

"Yes, sir." He answered plainly, as emotionless as when he'd first started talking.

Jean looked to him, expression a flurry of shock and confusion and worry. He shrugged at him, as if asking for an explanation, attempting their way of silent communication that they'd mastered.

Marco looked back, expression not emotionless anymore, but unreadable. This was another rare occurrence. Maybe this is what happens when you crash real life down onto an idealist.

Jean missed the calmness in Marco's eyes. It calmed him down too, never failing. He longed for it.

Now, it wasn't there anymore.

The soldier led them the rest of the way in silence, leading them down extravagant corridors and up elevators- _actual elevators_. Jean had only ever heard of those. Looking around, he took in the luxury. There were flowers in vases decorating every unnecessary table lining the walls. Beautiful carpets with intricate patterns covered the floors, and textiles covering the interior walls added the same effect. Every now and then there'd be a soldier of the Military police at their post, each just standing, each with perfect posture, and each looking incredibly, painfully bored.

 _That must really fucking suck._ Jean thought.

Finally, they came upon a hallway with a dead end, a large set of doors at the end of it.

"There are guards on the inside of the doors, and guards, as you saw, throughout the hallways. I have to return to my post, but just know that if you try anything, you will be caught and immediately punished. Understood?"

Jean went into a salute, while Marco stared at the soldier.

"You're not even going to alert him that we're here?" Marco asked, apparently completely blown away that the soldier wasn't planning on it.

"What did I say before, cadet? You're to wait until he's ready to see you. Stay put." He spoke down to Marco, condescending, and Marco had to bite his tongue again to stay quiet.

"Yes, _sir._ " He spat the word just as the soldier had when addressing him before.

The soldier reluctantly turned and walked away, Marco glaring after him until he rounded the corner at the end of the hall.  When they were sure they were out of earshot, Jean spoke up.

"Dude, what the hell was that?"

Marco turned to look at Jean, face softening a little. Jean noticed him rubbing at the base of his nose- a nervous tic he knew well.

"I just… they don't care. About anything! Anyone! You and I know very well that people are dying horribly out there," he paused as the mood of the conversation darkened at the mention of death. "They just go on like it's any other day, like everything's fine and we aren't important. It's… sickening." He finished his explanation with a shrug.

Jean moved over towards him to pat his shoulder. "You're right… I'm just surprised _you_ would lash out like that. Usually that's me." This earned a small, breathy laugh from Marco.

"Guess you're being quite the influence, then." Marco joked back.

Suddenly, shouting could be heard from inside the meeting room. Jean's head snapped around to look at the doors, then back to Marco, who looked equally confused. Neither could make out exactly what the shouting was.

Marco appeared frozen, unsure of what to do. Jean, on the other hand, began edging slowly towards the door.

"Jean!" Marco whispered, not knowing whether they could be heard or not.

Jean ignored the plea and continued walking, still unable to make out what they were saying exactly, but able to hear a little better. He beckoned Marco over with a wave of his hand, and though he seemed conflicted, he followed, joining Jean at the door. Looking at the middle of the doors, Jean noticed it was slightly ajar.

"Weird…" he thought aloud, to which Marco nodded in agreement. If the meeting was so important, why wouldn't they make sure the door was closed all the way? It had the slightest gap- nobody would be able to see the two if they moved closer, but it was still strange nonetheless. Maybe it was just haste?

Glancing at Marco, it was easy to tell he was conflicted. All his life he'd looked up to the King, was honored to even think about serving him. Now, Jean could tell that part of that eagerness was beginning to fade. That innocence, that pure happiness that was always a part of Marco, that Jean had never known him to stray from, was waning ever so slowly. It was sad, definitely, but also the slightest bit fearsome. That innocent happiness wasn't only being replaced with fear and disappointment, but also anger. Seeing even glimpses of that in sweet Marco… it was kind of scary, Jean had to admit.

As they finally reached the gap in the door, they could make out the words to a conversation between the King and who they assumed were top members of the Military Police.

"They're already getting suspicious, sir. We can't go taking such risks!"

"I don't care! These people are traitors and criminals, and if they aren't now then they surely will be. It's better to take care of them now."

What? Jean exchanged a puzzled look with Marco, then went back to the conversation.

"But is this really the way to do it? Why not simply imprison them or execute them normally?

"Do not question me, soldier! I am your King!"

"If we're the ones doing your dirty work, then we have a right to know!

"You have a right to what I give you. _I_ decide what you have a right to. You will listen to me and obey your orders! Now, as I said before, here is your list-"

"We don't want your damn list! Why do any of these people deserve to die?!"

…Die?

"That's none of your business, soldier. If I were you, I'd get to it unless _you_ want to become a part of this list."

Another voice spoke up.

"I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" It shouted, startling the room into silence.

"Excuse me, soldier-"

"I can't do this! I can't wait around and watch my soldiers get tortured just so they can slaughter people for you!"

Jean felt his eyes widen, and he was willing to bet Marco's reaction was the same, if not worse.

"Excuse-"

"NO! EXCUSE _ME_ , YOUR _HIGHNESS_. YOU AREN'T THE ONE WHO HAS TO SEND YOUR COMERADES TO BE EXPERIMENTS, TO BE INJECTED WITH THAT DAMN SYRUM AND FORCED TO KILL SO _YOU_ WON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH OVERPOPULATION! YOU ARE A COWARD, A RUTHLESS-"

"How do you think this system works, cadet? It isn't meant to be a kind one! I hire them, they kill, then they get a happy little life of their own! That's how it works."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! IT SHOULDN'T BE LIKE THAT! YOU TORTURE THEM TO MAKE THEM INTO THE VERY THINGS WE SHOULD BE FIGHTING, THEN HAVE THEM KILL OUR OWN PEOPLE! IT'S SICK!"

Marco's grip on the door tightened as the soldier continued shouting, and from the movement going on, they could assume she was being restrained. That empty look was returning to his eyes, and Jean knew that no good could come of that.

"Not so loud, soldier! This operation is top secret!"

"Of course it is! If you're so ashamed of turning your own soldiers into titans, then why do you do it?" She sounded exasperated.

Outside the door, Jean's breaths were quickening. Obviously he heard wrong. That had to be it, right? Turning people into titans… how could that even be done? He glanced at Marco again, who was visibly shaking. Marco looked back at him, eyes wide and seemingly unable to focus. What they were hearing, it couldn't be the truth.

Although, maybe it was. Maybe they had just been living the King's lies.

"All those aberrants…" Jean whispered, realizing what had really been happening.

"The deaths… I thought they seemed too deliberate to be random…" Marco wondered aloud.

More talking was heard on the opposite side of the doors.

"It seems this soldier needs to be reminded of the rules," The King said quietly and in an unsettlingly calm voice.

The two outside the door could hear sounds of struggle; she must have been restrained and silenced.

"I give the orders. I decide who will carry out these missions, not you. I come up with a list, not you. And I decide who deserves to be punished. Not. You. Is that understood?"

No sound was heard in response.

"Wait, Your Highness, she had a point-"

"I don't care, soldier. I decide who lives and who dies, understand, and I-"

Jean saw movement to his left, where Marco was standing. A door pushed open. No, a door shoved open.

A fuming Marco storming into the room.

_Oh no… Marco, no…_

Jean stood, mouth agape and unable to move, staring as his best friend threw away his life.

There was a greater rage in Marco than when he'd spoken to the soldier. He was clearly furious, and Jean was surprised that the King didn't burst into flames under his glare. There was no innocence present in him at this moment, no kindness and no understanding that always constituted Marco. If Jean were the subject of that fury, he knew he'd be terrified. Hell, he already was right now.

"Excuse me, _Your Highness,"_ he began bitterly as he stormed up to the King, walking faster than the guards had time to realize what was happening. "Urgent message from the Garrison, not that you care." He shoved the letter in the King's face. "We request the use of your trained Military Police in order to more effectively defeat the titans invading the walls. _Not that you care_ ," he repeated the last phrase, nearly spitting at the King.

"What the-? Cadet-"

"We would like to increase humanity's chance of survival, not that you care. We would like to decrease the amount of deaths occurring because of your carelessness. We would like to decrease the amount of pain, and suffering, and loss throughout your kingdom, _not that you care."_

The tone in which he spoke was low, laced with rage and condescending, but low. Jean could only stand there, trying to grasp exactly what was going on, trying to grasp how his best friend, his look-on-the-bright-side, upbeat best friend, fell into this rage that could very well cost him his life. Jean didn't know what he was more afraid of- Marco, or the consequences of what he was doing right now. He could get himself killed doing this.

"Restrain this cadet immediately!"

But Marco hadn't made a single move, other than giving him the letter. He stood there, looking down on the fat bastard of a King.

"You're using your own guard to kill people in your own kingdom. Innocent people. How could you?"

"Marco, come on, let's go!" Jean finally found the courage to speak, entering the room.

Both were quickly surrounded by guards and restrained.

_Well shit. Guess I'm in this too, now._

"Take them both to the basement. Keep them there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are Fridays good for new chapters? Friday sounds good yes? I haven't written this much in a long time so I'm actually really really excited for this and I hope you like it as much as I like writing it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Now, shall you deal with ME, O Prince - and all the powers of HELL!"_   
>  _-Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter, this is where some of the violence comes in!

Struggling was useless.

The "basement" was, to no one's surprise, a prison.

Marco was silent the entire way there, and Jean couldn't help but just stare at him more. They passed the same winding corridors as before, only this time there was a deeper dread embedded in each of them. The guards taking them, thankfully, were just as silent.

Jean could've said something. Some witty remark or joke or some idiotic thing that would most likely get him in trouble, like he usually did. And he was tempted to, he really was. But for some reason, with Marco looking like that, he really couldn't.

The guards unlocked the barred gate and ushered Jean in first, shoving him into the cell and eliciting a grunt from him as he lost his footing. Marco was next, forced in rougher so that he fell to the floor with a small gasp of surprise, which made Jean's jaw clench in anger. He knew better than to call them out on it at this point, though; if this was the worst they got, then that would be a damn blessing. The soldiers walked away without another word, thankfully, and left the two alone.

Jean peaked outside the bars to see that the nearest guards were still posted a little ways away. Good. They could have some privacy to talk about what the hell just happened.

He turned back to Marco to help him up, extending a hand to him, which Marco just waved away. He opted instead to scoot so he was leaning up against the wall, knees curled up to his chest.

"You okay?" Jean asked in a serious tone.

Marco just nodded his head in response, almost reluctantly. It was an automatic response, it meant he was okay from the fall, not necessarily from everything else, and Jean knew it. Marco was not okay.

Jean harbored a similar anger towards the King by this point. Having all this thrown at him was overwhelming, but imagining how it must be for Marco… the poor guy had always looked up to the King. He always had so much respect for him, and wanted nothing more than the "honor" of serving him.

And he just learned that his precious King is employing people to murder.

And Jean knew it got to him.

"I'm sorry I got you into this…" Marco said softly, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

He looked so small…

"Don't apologize, man. If I thought of the King as highly as you did, I'd probably do the same thing," Jean tried to reassure, though he wasn't really sure whether his words were true or not.

Jean ran over the words he'd heard before in his head- the slaughter, the titans, everything. He felt his own anger starting to boil into rage.

"How could a King treat his kingdom like that?" Marco asked to no one, staring at the floor. The empty expression had returned to his face, and Jean decided that he absolutely hated it.

"He's fucking crazy, Marco!" And there it goes. Jean was losing control of his voice. He was losing control of his thoughts. "He's hiring people to turn them into fucking titans! How insane do you have to be to even consider that an option?!"

"Jean, calm down…"

"No! Think about it, Marco! We've probably _watched_ some of the murders he commanded! And it makes perfect sense! Everyone could see that there were more deaths than usual, and that titans were killing more civilians than ever before! It just took us this long to be able to realize it…" he trailed off, voice lowering progressively as he talked but still threaded with contempt.

"We have to warn them…" Marco whispered, voice barely audible, especially over Jean's rage.

"Huh?"

"The others. The rest of the Trainees, and the Garrison, and the Survey Corps. If we could tell them, then maybe they could stop this… we just… have to get out of here."

Jean rubbed at the back of his neck. Yeah, they weren't leaving any time soon. Marco seemed to know that too, judging by the way his face fell. Jean crossed the room to sit next to him, folding his arms across his chest and huffing.

"Doesn't look like that's gonna happen for a while." He kept the hope that they'd eventually get out.

It was silent for a while. It was that feeling when something so unexpected, so utterly horrible makes its way into your life, and you’re left to your own devices completely clueless of what to do next. It was that feeling of despair, wondering what you could possibly do in this situation. It was that feeling of desperately trying to understand, to come to terms with yourself and the new information that's wormed its way into your mind uninvited, unwelcomed, and refusing to leave. It was that feeling that you were completely alone, helpless.

Except neither of them were alone.   

"Hey, Jean?" Marco asked suddenly, still transfixed on his little spot on the floor.

"Hm?"

"When all this is over, and when we get out of here… do you think you'll still join the Military Police?"

It was a dense question. After hearing what they'd just heard, it'd be logical for Jean to say "no" right away and turn his back on the military branch for the rest of his life. But he couldn't bring himself to accept that as an honest answer. He couldn't say yes or no. So he simply shrugged in response.

"How about you?" He asked quietly in return.

Marco didn't answer either.

But he did look ready to either cry or punch something.

So they settled back into silence. Jean wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but it was a horrible atmosphere. Talk about depressing thoughts… that was pretty much the entirety of what ran through Jean's head, and, from the looks of it, Marco's as well.

They had arrived when the sun was just starting to set, and, judging by the very small and barred single window present in the cell, it was now late into the night.

It had been too long of a day for both of them. Jean's thoughts began to get slower, and he could feel his eyes getting tired. There were two very uncomfortable looking beds in the cell, but he really didn’t feel like moving at all. He'd be incredibly stiff in the morning, but-

Marco snored softly next to him, head drooping down onto his shoulders.

Okay, he definitely wasn't moving now.

* * *

 

"Augh! What-"

"Shut up. You were the one causing so much trouble before, I'm sure you won't mind us returning the favor now. We could use you."

Jean snapped out of his slumber to find Marco being violently pulled up by two guards. He stumbled to get to his feet, but his mind was still clouded with sleep.

"Jean!" Marco called out, but was quickly silenced with some sort of tape around his mouth so he couldn't cry out.

"What the hell- let go of him!" Jean screamed and rushed at the guards, unsure of what was happening. There was only one thought running through his mind- _save Marco_.

Another few guards rushed out of nowhere and restrained Jean as well, their strong builds taking his kicking and squirming with little effort. Marco was struggling more as he was dragged from the cell, thrashing and doing everything he could to escape the guards' grip, but to no avail.

The look in his eyes, that pleading, desperate look. It hurt like hell.

"We'll be taking you to the lab." One said, evidently just to scare him. The frightened look only grew even more desperate as his muffled cries filled the room.

"You fuckers let go of him right now-"

With a sickeningly loud crunch and a second of searing pain in Jean's face, everything went black.

* * *

 

Jean woke the next morning with a raging headache. The first thing he noticed as he began to shake himself awake was _owwwwww fuck_ his face hurt like hell. The second thing he noticed was that the sun coming through the small window as he blinked his eyes open was way too bright, and it had to be early in the morning. The third thing he noticed…

_Where's Marco?_

He remembered a nightmare- not much of it, but he remembered Marco being dragged away from him, and himself powerless to stop it. That was just a nightmare though… why wasn't Marco here now?

He braced himself and began to drag himself off of the floor, but quickly gave up on it. His head wasn't having any of it. Why the hell did his head hurt so much?

He edged his way over to a bed, thankful that the cruel bastards of the Military Police at least provided blankets to them, and curled himself up, not even able to think or worry for another second before falling back into his painfully temporary abyss of sleep.

* * *

 

Jean cracked his eyes open upon hearing a noise.

"Get back in there, cadet."

Stumbling. Whimpering. Falling.

"We'll be back for you later. Oh, and best not to tell that annoying cellmate of yours about this,"

_Annoying? Hey, rude._

Jean still didn't fully open his eyes.

"If he gets worked up, we'll have no problem punishing him."

The cell closed with a harsh slam, and some shuffling could be heard in the cell.

More whimpering. Crying…?

_Just a dream, go back to sleep._

* * *

 

Jean awoke a second time to a similar pain in his head, although by this point it had died down into a tolerable throbbing. The sun wasn't quite as blaring, signifying it was a few hours later at the very least. More important, however, was that Marco was in the  bed next to him, curled up in a ball and supposedly asleep.

Or, maybe not, as he turned around right at the moment, eyes open.

He looked tired. Not the adorable Marco sleepiness Jean was used to, but exhausted. Maybe that dream wasn't as much of a dream as Jean had assumed. That thought scared the shit out of him.

"Morning." Marco greeted.

Jean sat up slowly, rubbing his head.

"Morning." Jean replied, though it was mangled by his yawn. "You look awful, man, what happened?"

Marco visibly stiffened at this.

"Nothing… just tired is all." The lie was obvious, but Jean decided not to pry. Not when Marco appeared to be in such a fragile state.

Their gear had been long discarded, confiscated by the Military Police along with their harnesses, which left them now in casual wear provided to them. It was disgustingly stiff, as many other things about their situation were. Disgusting, that is. Not stiff. Shit. Jean couldn't think well in the mornings.

Glancing over at Marco, he noticed him rubbing at his arm. That was odd… a nervous tic, maybe? No, he always reached to rub at his nose… this was new. Out of place.

"You okay? You know you can tell me, Marco." He was more sincere this time. He wanted to know everything. If something was wrong with Marco, Jean wanted to know.

He wanted to help. He wanted to make everything better, even if he knew he couldn't.

Marco was visibly conflicted, face contorting in confusion and pain before settling back into that emotionless horror of a look that he'd seemed to have adopted within the past day.

"I told you, Jean, I'm fine." He gave an obviously fake and forced smile that didn't calm Jean at all.

He still let it go, for the time being.

Even when Marco rubbed at his arm for the rest of the day.

Even when Marco didn't have anything to say. Even when Marco was painfully still. Even when Jean wanted nothing more than to comfort him. Even when Jean was painfully close to just wrapping his arms around Marco and squeezing his problems out of him.

The day was unsurprisingly solemn, filled with little conversation and a lot of grave silence. Not the comfortable, understanding silence that Jean had grown accustomed to. No, this was terrible. This one screamed out to him, slapping him in the face and shouting that there was true terror both outside in the titans, and in this cell, residing within Marco and whatever he was hiding.

They were fed two bland meals, which required quite a bit of determination and hunger to force down their throats. If Jean thought food during training sucked, then this was actual hell. Sasha would be crying.

Sasha…

Jean wondered how she was. He wondered about Connie, and about Reiner, and Bertholdt, Armin and Mikasa… maybe even Eren.

What were they facing right now? Where did they think he and Marco had gone?

Were they even alive?

Slowly, night began to fall, transitioning the sky from its blue hues to pinks and oranges, then to purples, then to the night sky. Marco spent a good portion of the day gazing out the window, while Jean remained drowning in his thoughts and worries.

"I'm gonna try and sleep now."

That simple sentence caused Marco to startle from the sudden noise, then remain rigid. Another odd thing… why wouldn't he just tell?

"O-okay. Goodnight."

Jean brushed it off and drifted to sleep to Marco's unsettlingly rapid breathing, seeming much too loud compared to the otherwise silent room.

* * *

 

It was probably the middle of the night.

Shuffling around the room, maybe the scuffling of feet? Guards making patrols, probably?

No, the cell bars were closing. They'd been in here.

But there was otherwise no sound. No human voices.

Jean, never truly waking up, sunk back into his sleep.

* * *

 

Marco was awake again. This time he was sitting on his bed, knees curled up to his chest like he had been doing two days prior. It was his defense position, it made him feel more secure, or so Jean figured.

Jean rolled over to look at him, more awake this time.

Marco looked even worse than he had the previous day. Something was definitely going on… but what?

This day was easier. They drifted into conversation, both intense and about the recent events, and casual, as if they were back in their barracks. It was kind of funny in a grim way; training was absolutely horrible, harsh and prepping them for their cruel reality, but here they were, reminiscing over it and missing it.

"I'm so sorry for dragging you into this," Marco apologized for what seemed like the millionth time, as if it were completely his fault. Maybe it was, but no way in hell would Jean have left him alone in a castle prison anyway. Even if he didn't get caught with him, he would've found his way in, because that's just how things worked. Jean followed Marco, looked after him, and Marco did the same for Jean. That's how it had been for three years.

"I don't care, Marco." Jean brushed it off, smiling weakly at him. "I'm glad that if I had to get trapped in some dumbass prison, I got trapped with you."

This earned a little bit of a blush from Marco, which, despite being cute as hell- _I mean, what?-_ was a relief from the emptiness Jean had been receiving from him.

It was nice to have some emotion back on that face. Some positive emotion. Something nice.

Jean didn't realize how much he missed Marco's smile until he'd been denied it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think Fridays are good for updating, and I have been staying a chapter ahead, but as the school year starts up the updates might be less frequent. Again this is my first serious multi-chapter fic so I apologize for mishaps, but I'm really enjoying writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And now, the gates of a dungeon part, and our prince is free to go his way. Off he rides, on his noble steed, a valiant figure, straight and tall!"_   
>  _-Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post early ^.^ Okay well like half an hour early... It's been tough getting back in a routine (for two days) but I plan on still updating every Friday! I'm really into this fic and much thanks to those of you who've been leaving comments and kudos! I had trouble actually finishing this chapter, I wanted to keep writing!!

The next three days weren't much different.

Marco was distant during the day, and whenever Jean tried to reach out, Marco would simply pull away and draw further into himself. They would go to sleep, and Jean would wake up in the middle of the night to more strange noises. He began to think maybe there's something to them; maybe they weren't just his mind playing tricks on him, or a weird dream.

Maybe something was really happening.

And maybe that something had to do with whatever was bothering Marco.

On the fifth day, Jean would be awake this time. He'd figure out for himself what was going on if Marco was so resistant to tell him. He decided he'd still try throughout the day, though. Giving up wasn't an option.

"Marco, please tell me what's going on."

The boy in question had resumed his spot on the bed, sitting backwards to face the window with his knees curled up to his chest. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as if in deep thought, before turning his head to look at Jean. It was still weird, seeing him look so damn _small_.

"It's… everything."

Well, _that_ was a different answer. Usually the response was "nothing", and it remained "nothing" despite any and all forms of prying.

Jean moved over to sit next to him, shoulders touching in what he hoped was comforting contact. That was something people did, right? Marco didn't pull away.

"Everything…?" He encouraged Marco to keep talking. To spill whatever was plaguing his head. To pour it out into the open, to make him know he wasn't alone.

"As we speak, the King is sending for murder. Who knows what innocent people are losing their lives right now… it could be a child, or some poor family with no money that he considers useless… it could be our friends. And we can't do anything. That's what's going on."

It was a good enough answer. Logical. In this situation, why _wouldn't_ that be bothering him? It was eating away at Jean's mind as well, every waking second of the day. For some reason however, that answer didn't seem like the truth. Those worries were burdens they both shared. Why would Marco be hiding that?

There was something else.

Marco rubbed at his arm again before catching himself, then hiding it back into his position of security.

There was a lengthy silence between the two as Jean pondered what to say next. Let it slide again, and leave him alone? Call him out on it? Force it out of him?

No, he was _tired_ of just leaving him alone. It wasn't helping anyone. Most importantly, it wasn't helping Marco.

"You wanna tell me what's _really_ going on?"

Jean looked Marco dead in the eyes. He looked surprised that his answer had been rejected, and equally fearful. His eyes widened, losing the blank touch they'd had to them for the past few days.

He had emotion again. But it wasn't good.

"No…"

At least he didn't deny that there was a problem.

"What?" Jean asked, and his face contorted in confusion.

What couldn't Marco tell him? What could possibly be happening here that Jean, of all people, couldn't know? Nobody knew Marco better than Jean, why was he hiding?

What could be so terrible that he was forced into silence?

"No… I don't want to. I… I can't" He finally managed.

His face again showcased a mixture of many emotions. Nowadays it seemed those were the only two options- a flurry of emotion, or nothing at all. Jean absolutely _hated_ it. He knew it wasn't unreasonable, given what they'd experienced recently, but still. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted his Marco back.

In his face was not only fear, but pain. Hurt.

Jean kinda wanted to brutally murder whoever had put that there.

"Maybe I'll be able to someday," he said, with little to no assurance that he believed his own words, "but not now. Please, can we just leave it at that?" He was pleading now. He hung his head, obviously trying to avoid looking at Jean.

"Why can't you just- I don't understand-"

"Please?"

He snapped his head back up.

His eyes were glistening.

_Oh no, oh Marco, no, don't cry…_

"Yeah, okay," Jean quickly agreed.

Marco wiped at his eyes and turned his head away from Jean, poorly trying to hide that he was on the verge of tears. It hurt, seeing somebody who was so strong, somebody who could handle anything, everything, just break down. And he tried to hide it, he tried to be okay, but Jean knew better.

And it hurt.

 _So_ much.

He scooted as close as he could to Marco and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close. The gesture was  again meant to be comforting, but he didn't really care whether it was successful or not in doing that. It was a desperate attempt at consoling, but he had to find some way to soothe him. And maybe he was soothing himself as well. Marco didn't resist, but instead shifted his position so that his face was buried in Jean's chest. Muffled sobbing was heard even through the fabric of Jean's shirt, quiet, but there, and it was the most awful sound. He sounded completely broken. His fists clenched in Jean's shirts, seeming to grasp at any sort of reality he could.

Something definitely happened to break someone as strong as him, and Jean was going to find out.

He lay in his bed that night, but did not fall asleep.

Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

* * *

 

Marco slept a few hours, curled up in his little ball as usual. It calmed him, or so he may have just convinced himself. Whatever it did, it was the most comfort he could afford. The most he could get. He knew they were coming soon, and he'd be subjected to another hour or two of hell.

He kind of wished Jean would just hold him again, and never let go. In his arms, _they_ couldn't get to him. In his arms was safe. Protection. Comfort. Anything he needed.

Marco was awakened by the sound of heavy footsteps.

_No…_

_No no no nonononono…_

_They're here. I don't want to do this again, I don't want them to take me again I just want to sleep just let me sleep please…_

_Maybe they'll pass by… maybe they won't notice me and maybe if I curl up small enough they won't notice me and maybe oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod the bars are opening no…_

They opened the bars and waited expectantly. Marco knew they weren't very patient people; if he stalled too long, they'd make this hell even worse. If he didn't behave, he was sure they'd have no problem using Jean as well. Under no circumstance could he let that happen.

Marco sat up slowly, stealing a glance at his arm, as his sleeve was rolled up from his sleeping position. It was peppered with small marks, bruises surrounding some of them, certain ones darker than others and certain others extremely painful.

Another night of testing.

* * *

 

Jean heard the footsteps approaching, and assumed they were just guards making patrols. However, when they opened the bars, he knew it wasn't that simple. He knew something was up.

Shifting in Marco's bed. That wasn't just tossing and turning; he was standing up.

So, those past nights weren't dreams. They're taking him somewhere.

* * *

 

Marco walked with his head hung over to the guards. He couldn't look at their eyes, or their faces. That would make them human, and he preferred to believe they weren't. He preferred to believe that humans were incapable of doing this.

By this point, he knew the route well enough. He knew the hallways and the twists and turns that led him to somewhere he never wanted to see again.

He knew well the anxiety that accompanied the walk. He knew the pain that was coming to him. He knew what was going to happen to him and he knew _exactly_ where he was going.

The lab.

* * *

 

_Should I have followed him? Snuck out the gates quickly? No, they would've caught me. What if I ran? They'd have gotten me before I could've gotten him. Should I wake up and alert guards? Should I act as some sort of distraction?_

_What do I do?_

_What can I do?_

Jean's head raced with thoughts of what he should do, and what he could do.

The bars closed off the room, so he couldn't escape to alleviate his curiosity or help Marco. Well, at least, not easily. If he got a guard's attention maybe… no, that would probably result in a beating and more punishment. His thoughts became static in his mind, trying to break through to him with a solid plan, any idea to just get to Marco and actually be able to help him, but instead they became completely mashed together and unable to emerge individually.

He remained where he was, lying still in his rock of a bed for now. No use alerting anyone nearby.

No use doing anything. It won't work.

_No. No, there has to be something! Something, anything…_

Suddenly a loud crashing interrupted his train of thought and infiltrated the prison. It almost sounded like… an explosion?

_What the hell?!_

 He sat up in his bed, looking around the dark room pointlessly before throwing the covers off of him and stumbling over to the bars. Any view of other cells or even guards were covered with smoke from the apparent blast, which began to bite at Jean's eyes, making him have to turn around to shield them. He could hear some voices- familiar voices.

Some guards were already on the scene, investigating the commotion. Running, yelling… fighting? Definitely fighting, but who? Who was fighting against the Military Police, and winning?

_Wait, is that…?_

After some minutes, Jean wasn't sure how long, the grunting and shouting that signified a battle had stopped completely. The smoke had begun to clear away, and he coughed to clear the rest of it from his lungs as he turned back to try and identify who was crazy enough to break in and actually fight.

"I heard coughing, over here!"

Jean had to blink his eyes a few times to wrap his head around who he saw on the other side of the bars.

"Annie?! Bert, Reiner?!"

* * *

 

Marco was uncomfortably familiar with the lab- the stone cold metal tables, the incarcerating leather straps, the fridges full of strange experiments and the collections of syringes always close by. He knew the "scientists", and their unnerving masks that they always bore. Worst of all, he knew the pain of what he was about to experience again.

The hands that gripped him led him to one of the tables. He'd already learned not to resist, so he sat down readily, waiting to be restrained in those leather prisons and briefed on what awful experiment they'd be performing on him _this_ time.

Another serum, maybe. Another series of injections, or maybe more "mental training". Or maybe all three.

He prayed it wasn't all three.

"Thank you for being good. It really makes this whole thing easier on both of us."

_This is disgusting. This is sick. This is wrong._

He didn't refuse when ordered to take off his shirt. He didn't move as they clamped him in. He didn't protest as they tightened the straps way too tight.

_There's no use struggling. They'll do whatever they want anyway. Maybe it won't be so bad tonight… wait, they're starting with a serum. Another syringe… two, three… oh god. Where else can they even find on my arm to stick me? There's no more room, unless they want to… oh god, please no…_

The scientists filled up one of the syringes dreadfully slowly with a new concoction, some kind of new serum they were testing out.

"I think this one's gonna work. We'll be able to start administering it after we're sure, and then we can dispose of this one." Another said completely casually, addressing their coworker.

That's all they saw this as. A job.

"If it does work, titan shifting will be so much easier for them. We can finish the lists so much easier."

They actually seemed happy about this. Like they'd been successful, even though they were helping to _torture_ and _murder_ innocent people. So many innocent people… Marco's thoughts began racing again, filling him with worries and anxiety, with the _need_ to get out of there oh god he _had to get out of there what was going to happen if he didn't?_

"This might hurt." One said simply.

No emotion. No remorse, no guilt, no sorrow. They knew it was going to hurt. They didn't care.

Now Marco struggled to move, but now was too late.

_No… no no no nononononono n o no n o n o please no_

Not having any more free room on Marco's arm, the scientist wielding the syringe stuck it into an existing puncture wound.

_Oh my god stop please stop please it hurts I can't do this anymore I can't take this pain anymore._

Even though his mouth was bound by a strap, his screaming was audible. Muffled, but audible.

* * *

 

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Busting you out. Where's Marco?"

This was crazy. Insane. And Jean was so god damned thankful.

Jean's eyes went wide at the alarmed question. He didn't know. All he knew was that Marco was in trouble.

"I- I don't know-"

A scream of anguish cut him off, and he whipped his head in its direction, panicked thoughts racing through his mind.

"MARCO!"

* * *

 

The strap had fallen off Marco's mouth from his squirming from the pain. It was excruciating.

"Shut him up!"

It was back on before he even had a chance to think, and the needle was still in his arm, slowly sinking further. His breaths were coming shorter now, he could feel himself starting to panic.

_Calm down, calm down, that won't get you anywhere just get through this and you'll go back to the cell and you can sleep. You can get some sleep and you can go back to Jean and he'll protect you and you can tell him everything just calm down don't scream don't panic-_

Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound coming from the door, as if someone just broke it right down.

"Marco? Marco!" A voice called.

Marco tried to whip his head around to see, but he couldn't with the restraints. It didn't matter; he knew the voice anyway.

_Jean?_

* * *

 

Jean had raced down the hallways and staircases as soon as Reiner freed him from his cell, running as fast as his legs would take him and followed closely by the three to find the source of the screaming. He hoped his suspicions wouldn't be confirmed, he hoped that he was wrong, but again, hope never did much.

_Be okay be okay be okay be okay please please be okay_

The lab was only a floor or two lower than the prison, the lowest in the castle so any screams of agony like those they'd just heard wouldn't rise into the upper floors. So they wouldn't disturb the King. So he could live in peace while bringing others nothing but suffering. So he could torture in peace.

There were several doors leading to the lab, all looking secured.

"Fuck! How the fuck are we going to get in there?!" Jean shouted, gesturing to the doors with his hands before curling them into fists. The anger had already festered in him since those guards had taken Marco, but now it threatened to spill over if anything else got in his way. How dare they take him. How dare they do this to him.

Before anyone could dwell on it, Reiner rammed the door down. Then the next one. And then the next.

How he did this was a complete mystery… those doors were locked, and from their appearance, strong. Maybe Jean was wrong, maybe they were weaker than they looked? Still, how did Reiner manage that so easily?

"Don't question it. Just go." Annie said with a surprisingly steady voice before Jean had a chance to ask.

He didn't protest. He only ran, and kept running until he could get to Marco. That was the most important thing, the only important thing, he could deal with anything else later. Get Marco, and get out. Every other thought previously infiltrating his mind melted away.

The sight he beheld when he opened the door left him nearly speechless. No sooner had he called out for Marco than he saw him, strapped down  and surrounded by sadists who called themselves scientists.

"What-" One began, but was quickly cut off by a kick to the face by Annie, sending him to the ground.

"Get him, we'll handle these assholes." She commanded Jean and went to work, fighting expertly alongside Reiner.

There were so many of them, crazy sadists who had been doing god knows what to Marco. They'd probably threatened him to get him to stay quiet, to keep him silenced while they made him suffer. They'd probably been taking him every night. Jean's jaw clenched thinking about it. They would all pay for this. That bastard of a King couldn't go on in his ignorant bliss while shit like this happened at _his command_.

_Marco now. King later._

Jean frantically tried to break the restraints that locked Marco to the table, removing the mouthpiece first before trying to unbuckle the straps with shaking hands. This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. This couldn't be what was happening to him. And what if there was more? More that Jean didn't know, more torture or suffering that he'd fought with all his being to keep a secret for some unknown reason.

Once one hand was free, Marco helped Jean to unbuckle the straps and free himself further. Jean could tell his thoughts must have been racing just as much, if not more, than his own.

Glancing over to Annie, she and Reiner were taking down the guards and other Military Police members easily, almost effortlessly, or so it seemed to Jean. He wasn't sure if backup had been called or if anyone else had been alerted to the situation, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stay to find out. He finished freeing Marco and all but yanked him off the table, steadying him as he frantically rose to his feet.

"Go! We've got this! Bert, go with them!" Reiner commanded them as he held a guard for Annie to kick unconscious.

Jean didn't need to be told twice. If Marco had doubts, he didn't voice them; he didn't protest when Jean grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Jean had to get out of there, he had to get Marco out of there and get them both to safety and the only thoughts running through his mind were exactly that: _run._

Glancing over his shoulder briefly, he noticed Bert following them. Good. If they ran into trouble, it would be nice to have some sort of backup. Bertholdt's size alone could probably be intimidating enough… maybe. Hopefully. Probably not.

Guards would probably be coming down the main corridors at that very moment. It was too much of a risk to take that way. There had to be some sort of secret passage, or hidden door somewhere.

Bertholdt rushed ahead and ran towards the prison.

Oh. Right. They kind of blew a gaping hole in the wall to get in.

 Footsteps behind them. Annie and Reiner must have made a break for it. Jean didn't stop, he wasn't sure he could for anything at this point. He just tightened his hold on Marco and ran as if his life depended on it, which really, it might have.

There was a slight problem, though.

Once they got out, what then? They didn't have maneuver gear.

Well shit.

"Jean! Marco! Over here!" Reiner called from behind them, pointing to a room outside the prison cells with a door that looked like it'd been punched straight through.

Jean didn't have time to question it. He dragged Marco over to grab their straps and gear.

"You don't have long. More guards are heading here as we speak, go as quickly as you can and we'll hold them off." Annie warned and turned to watch the hallways.

* * *

 

Not much was running through Marco's mind besides "go, just go." Any other day, maybe he would've been flustered changing in front of Jean, or anyone really, but especially him. And any other day he might have glanced over at him and held his gaze a second too long. But, now was not the time, and he raced to change from the stiff prison uniform to his usual cadet one, throwing his belts on swiftly as he went.

Jean… was not as graceful.

"Shit… fuck this stupid god damned uniform…" He muttered as he fumbled with some of the clasps.

Some things never change.

After getting his belts on, Marco went to go help Jean, which after a weak protest of "I don't need your help," went much smoother than had he attempted it on his own.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Rainer basically threw the gear at them. They'd been used to having to get it on and secured quickly in dire situations, so this wasn't as difficult a task. Or, Marco assumed. Jean didn't need so much help for this one.

"They're here! Reiner!" Marco barely heard Annie shout, but Reiner took off in her direction.

He figured that was the cue for he and Jean to leave now. Reiner and Annie would take them down in their mysterious Reiner-and-Annie way that Marco would probably be better off not knowing, and Bertholdt insisted on following them until he was sure they could get away.

Jean reached again for Marco's hand to pull him along. It didn't feel like just that, though. It felt more… emotional? It felt like there was a need to keep Marco with him, to keep him close to know for sure he was right there. And Marco couldn't be more grateful for it.

They ran back through the prison, searching for the hole previously made in the wall. Marco turned his head once to look back upon hearing shouting that definitely signified violence. And he knew who was dominating. He didn't know how in the world they had gotten so powerful… surely training hadn't done _that_ much?

Questions for later. Now, it was rush out of the building, through the hole crumbling with rubble, and away from this horrible place. Not a second passed from when he had reached outside to when he fired the hooks to his gear, sending him flying. He didn't have to look to know Jean was there next to him.

But he did anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have a [tumblr](http://the-king-of-flowers.tumblr.com/) if you want to request a fic or contact me for any reason, or, yannow, just say hi :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, we walk together, and talk together, and just before we say goodbye, he takes me in his arms, and then..."_   
>  _-Aurora, Sleeping Beauty_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, I'm so sorry for the late update! Maybe I took too much on with weekly updates, so I'm gonna try for every other week now. Hopefully that'll work, but if I can get one out every week, I'll keep doing that. School'd been crazy and I've been fighting major writer's block T.T  
> Secondly, I'm sorry this chapter doesn't have more action in it, but there's lots of cliche fluffiness and I figure with what I have planned for next chapter, you're gonna need this  
> And lastly thanks so much for every comment, kudos, and bookmark guys!! I really appreciate them :D

Jean didn't check to see if they were being followed. He didn't check to see if Annie or Reiner or Bertholdt were okay. He was probably a horrible person for that, but he really didn't care. Marco was flying next to him again, they were synchronized again, and as long as that was happening, he could live with himself.

He flew quicker, more frantic and hurried than their prior trip. He had to get away, he had to get Marco away, and in he couldn't bring himself to worry too much for the other three in his haste.

Marco was there, and Jean could see Wall Sina ahead of them. Half an hour and they'd be there, over the wall and safe enough that if they weren't being followed now, then they'd be home free.

Actually… that was weird. It wasn't like the Military Police didn't have gear. Yeah, they didn't have to wear it as constantly and annoyingly as the trainees and other military branches did, but still, there were always at least guards prepared with 3DMG.

Why weren't they being chased?

Jean wasn't complaining, but the thought of being purposefully left alone after assaulting the King and escaping his prison was a little scarier than if they had been being followed.

The gas tanks on Jean's belts began bucking a little, indicating they'd be empty soon. He signaled to Marco to land so they could switch out, now glad that Marco had brought two extra. Leave it to him, always the one to think ahead. He landed on a rooftop, ignoring the alarmed looks and cries from citizens below to replace the tanks. Marco did the same.

"You okay?" Jean asked.

Yeah, it was a dense question. Not really a 'yes or no' kinda thing if they were both being honest. But, it was better to ask. And better to know if Marco was okay to fly the rest of the way or not. Collapsing mid-air was not fun.

Marco shrugged in response.

"I'll make it."

That was an understandable answer. Actually, it was a pretty incredible answer. If Jean were in his position, he'd probably be a little heap on the ground right now. Screw that, he would've told Marco right away and yelled and screamed and thrashed at the bastard guards that tried to take him.

He guessed that's why they chose Marco.

Marco was stronger; he was tougher to break.

But there was an underlying tone in that answer. An underlying pain. Fear.

They'd managed to break him anyway.

He should be in a hurry. He should be changing his tank as quickly as possible, and he should scramble to get himself and Marco back in the air and back to the base. But he couldn't help but enjoy taking a moment to just calm down.

He sighed and meandered over to Marco, who didn't appear to be making any efforts to move quickly either. Jean couldn't blame him. Marco was probably hurt and tired and in pain…

"You sure?" Jean dropped his tone to let Marco know he was serious. He put a hand on Marco's shoulder, frowning when he flinched in return.

Marco never _used_ to do that.

"I'll be fine for now, Jean." He flashed a weak smile. It was fake. He didn't look like he even had the strength to _try_ and make it look real. That hurt.

"We can take a break if you're too tired, Marco. We could get away with it-"

"I said I'll be fine." He said with more force to his voice. "We need to get out of here. Back to the base. Then fight titans. Then we can rest."

Jean couldn't argue with that. Marco was right. He needed rest, of course, they both did. But they needed safety first. Hell, Jean wouldn't have been able to rest here anyways. He'd be watching over Marco the whole time, he wasn't gonna lie to himself.

"Okay. But we're stopping in Rose for the training bunker there. You're not fighting titans like this."

This was not up for argument.

Marco didn't disagree anyway.

* * *

 

Marco finished replacing the gas tanks and stood on the edge of the building, both anxious and incredibly reluctant to take off again.

Here they were, standing on a rooftop in full military gear, avoiding any conversation that lied just below the surface of words and each knowing they'd have to face it eventually. Citizens continued to stare, looking on at the two strange men on the rooftop of what was probably somebody's house.

That was probably the highlight of someone's night. Probably several someones.

Marco laughed without joy.

Sometimes it was easy to forget the ignorant bliss that the people of the interior were graced with. He was disliking it more and more by the second.

 He could feel Jean's intense eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

It wasn't condescending, but he sounded nonplussed.

What was funny? These people. They were all kinda funny. Their biggest concern was two people on the roof. Out of everything, _everything_ they could be worried about- and there was plenty to choose from- they chose to gawk at the strangers on the rooftop.

Marco shook his head at the ignorance below him. That was his only response to Jean's question.

He heard Jean before he felt him, perching himself next to Marco and draping an arm on his shoulder casually.

"Hey. We'll be fine. We have to get to the Rose bunker right now, then we can worry about all that shit, yeah? Just, don't be too worried about it for now."

Jean was rarely the one giving comfort. Or, at least, soothing words like these. He'd offer console through sarcastic and vaguely pessimistic comments. He'd whine and he'd complain, he'd act like a child. And, that itself was oddly calming. It meant things were okay if he could whine about them, it meant he wasn't really troubled.

Now, his every word was tender. He was _trying_ to be comforting, he was actually aiming for reassurance. And it worked. Well, for now. For now that was enough to encourage Marco to keep going. Just that little bit of effort went a long way.

"Yeah… we'll be okay." Marco finally responded, his smile genuine this time.

It was sometime in the middle of the night. One, two, three in the morning, Marco didn't know. Well, judging by the amount of people still wandering the streets below, it was probably closer to midnight. The sky was incredibly clear. Maybe a few clouds, but otherwise, it was like he could see every star in the sky- he'd missed that. He missed the bright, radiant moonlight and the twinkling of stars that could just envelope you in their magnificence. There weren't many means of escape these days. The night sky was something to be cherished.

"I missed it too," Jean whispered suddenly from beside him, gazing skyward as well.

"Hm?"

"The sky. Funny how just a little while without something can make you miss it so much."

It was as if Jean had reached into Marco's mind and felt exactly what he was thinking. And now they were having philosophical thoughts about stars. On a rooftop of some random city. While they were on the run from the Military Police.

He could've laughed again.

But he couldn't have asked for anything better.

"Yeah…" Marco nearly whispered, then let out a weak laugh. "At least we're here now. Safe. Looking like fools, stargazing on a roof in full gear."

"We're the best looking fools out there, then." Jean chuckled lightly.

And the humor was back now.

The mood that enveloped them was both light and dark, calm and dense fighting for dominance but neither one quite succeeding. Yes, they were out. They were safe, for now. But, who knew how long that would last?

The fact that they could still talk like this was probably a pretty good sign.

"Guess we are," Marco agreed and smiled. A genuine smile. He missed being able to do that, too.

"Alright," Jean said, stretching. "Let's get going. I'm tired, and I don't wanna deal with the Garrison if people start complaining about the weirdos on the roof."

Marco nodded in response, and with those words, he took off, Jean trailing close behind him.

* * *

 

Marco seemed better. Well, not _better_ , by far, but he was smiling again. He was able to move past the Military Pricks, and here he was now, flying swiftly as ever, both to safety and sleep.

He didn't know whether anything he'd said was actually helpful, but he kinda really hoped it was. He tried.

They flew in their usual silence once again- not like they'd really be able to hold a conversation mid air- with Jean's eyes on Marco the entire time.

The last time Jean closed his eyes when he thought Marco might be in danger, Marco was tortured.

He wasn't going to be so careless anymore.

They reached wall Sina within their expected half an hour, and maneuvered up to the top of the wall.

"I know it's not the ideal place, but if you wanna take a rest, this would be a good place to." Jean suggested once they were perched safely on the top.

Marco hummed in thought and walked to the edge of the wall.

"Maybe taking a break would be a good idea," he finally agreed, sitting down with his legs dangling over the wall's edge.

Jean wished he knew what was going through Marco's mind. He wished he knew what he should say, what he should do, what would help Marco. Could he even do that? Well fuck, he could try.

Jean made his way over to Marco on the edge, plopping down beside him and dangling his legs off the side, mirroring Marco.

"How long you wanna stay?" Jean asked, idly swinging his leg to bump one of Marco's.

Marco shrugged in return.

"Dunno. Don't think we're being followed. We can stay for a while, if you want."

He sounded… tired. Jean couldn't blame him. At all. Hell, he was fucking exhausted, and _he_ wasn't the one who was experimented on.

He shuddered at the sudden recollection. Best to keep those thoughts away for now, so he didn't end up exploding in rage.

"We'll stay as long as you want. Shit, I wouldn't mind a few days before we have to go back to Titan Hell."

It was a selfish thing to say. To want. Jean knew he had to go out and fight. They had to go out and fight. Go back to being the pawns in the King's chess game. Kill the titans, save the city, then wait for everyone to be in danger again. Then face more titans, more aberrants. Stare Death in the face until Death gets sick of it and launches back at you.

Jean didn't want to go back. He wanted to stay, sitting on Wall Rose with Marco. He didn't care for how long. Well, the bunker they were aiming for would be nice, too.

And if that made him selfish, he couldn't give less of a fuck.

"Yeah, me neither." Marco muttered almost inaudibly.

Nobody would want to go back.

Looking over the Rose territory, it was mainly shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by moonlight and scattered lanterns indicating late-open shops and night owls. It was a bizarrely tranquil scene. Somewhere out beyond this serenity, titans were prowling, doing god knows what, eating god knows who.

It kinda felt like he should feel guilty for enjoying this. He couldn't bring himself to, though.

And there goes Marco stargazing again.

He leaned down so he was laying on his back, legs still swinging off the side, and tilted his head up, looking at the stars again.

Jean followed suit, laying down, enjoying the relief it gave his muscles.

He couldn't blame Marco for stargazing so much. The sky was pretty, he had to admit. Plus it was a nice distraction from the other shit going on.

So they laid there, side by side, for who knows how long. Jean was beginning to enjoy these now frequent rests, and just relaxing next to Marco. He could get used to this.

"We should probably get going to the bunker now, unless you wanna sleep here." Jean mumbled, turning his head to look at Marco, who was still thoughtfully staring into the sky.

"I wouldn't mind falling asleep right here," Marco responded, shifting so he was looking at Jean now rather than the sky. Another thing that offered an odd tranquility. They were definitely not making it to that bunker if Marco kept staring at him like that, damn. "But, a bed sounds really nice. Wouldn't really mind blankets, either."

"Oh hell yes. Fucking comforting shit after all that god damned stiffness."

Marco chuckled at that, earning a smirk from Jean in return.

Jean reluctantly stood up and stretched, quickly followed by Marco, who was currently rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

That really shouldn't have been as cute as it was.

The bunker took longer to reach, as it was close to the Wall itself. It only took half an hour, give or take, to get to Sina. But getting to Rose, even with gear, would probably take around an hour, maybe even an hour and a half.

Jean kept his eyes on Marco for every second.

* * *

 

Marco could have collapsed in exhaustion by the time they reached the bunker, if he weren't so eager to be wrapped in blankets.

Maybe Jean's arms too. That wouldn't be bad.

It appeared to be an abandoned building- still fully functional in case it needed to be used, thank god, but forgotten now in favor of newer buildings. Also, probably most of its residents were out closer to the battle, in case they had to be up and ready to fight off an attack.

Just one night. One night of peace was all he asked. One night of no titans, no experiments, no crazy Military Police, no prison. Just peace, and sleep.

No sooner had they landed than was Jean opening the door, rushing excitedly inside for hopes of a bed and the promise of sleep.

Marco staggered in close behind, craving the exact same thing.

The sound of gear being hastily unfastened and tossed aside clattered throughout the room. Beds everywhere, each still set with sheets, and plenty of blankets in the corner. Marco could have _drooled_ , he wanted them so badly. Gear off, straps off, clothes off. Bed. Need bed. Now.

He turned around to see Jean wasn't even out of his straps yet, and even in the dark it was clear he was staring at something in Marco's direction.

"What is it? Need help?" Marco asked, apparently startling Jean.

"Hah? Ah- no, no I'm good, just uh… yeah." He stammered.

Whatever. Marco had seen him act stranger before, and that _bed oh god that bed_.

Marco gathered a few blankets and plopped himself on the bed, settling into a comfortable position while Jean took seemingly way more time than was necessary to undress.

He was being weird again.

Aaaaaaaaaaand Marco was way too tired to care.

He could hear the creaking of the adjacent bed, as he assumed Jean was crawling into it. Why was he disappointed? He… kinda really wished Jean would get in his bed. Kinda. Just, the warmth, and his arms around Marco, and maybe Marco could nuzzle into him just a little and it wouldn't be weird.

No, it wouldn't be weird. It would be comfort. Jean was comfort. Marco thought back to that day in the prison, when Jean just held him for hours while he sobbed. He thought back to Jean doing everything he could to soothe him. He thought back to being forced out of his cell at night and onto that horrible, god awful freezing table, and suddenly the room felt colder. Everything was getting colder, why was it so cold? He thought of being stabbed with one needle, then another one, then another and another until there was no room left near his vein to even pierce-

Jean was comfort. He needed comfort.

"Hey… Jean?" Marco was upset at how utterly broken he sounded.

"Yeah?" Oh no, he sounded concerned. Was it really that bad?

"Could you… would you mind, uh, if I slept in your bed? With you?"  He asked, voice cautious in little more than a whisper. He mentally questioned if Jean had heard him, but just as he was about to forget about it, he heard movement from Jean's bed.

Warmth.

Jean had climbed in next to Marco, shamelessly snuggling up behind him and pulling the blankets up to cover them.

Warmth. Everything was warm now.

Marco was so, _so incredibly thankful_ .

He could feel Jean's hesitance, though. His hands didn't seem to know where to go.

Marco reached to take them and wrap them around himself.

"Thanks, Jean." He murmured, then drifted to sleep with the sound of Jean's breathing and the much-needed _warmth_ enveloping him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"A forest of thorns shall be his tomb! Borne through the skies on a fog of doom!"_   
> _-Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone who's still reading this!  
> First off, this is another chapter where the violence warning comes in, so be wary of that if it affects you.  
> Second, I apologize for taking so long with this! But, it's my longest chapter so far, so maybe that makes up for something? Maybe? I swear I'm really trying to keep a good schedule!!  
> Third, I apologize in advance for what you're about to read.

Marco woke up from his slumber to a welcomed sense of peace around him. He was a bit startled at first, but quickly calmed down when he remembered where he was with the feeling of Jean's arms wrapped tightly around him. And warmth. Again, that incredible warmth radiating through him. Jean's embrace had tightened in the night, Marco noticed, as he found himself pressed into Jean's chest. On another day, he may have thought it was weird. On another day, maybe he would've been embarrassed or awkward about it. But now, it was the most comfort Marco had felt since he decided to become a soldier.

He loved it.

He loved everything about this.

If he could've stayed there all day, he would have. He would have opted to remain entwined with Jean forever if he could have. Just sleeping the day away, moving at their own pace, without worries or fear.

He didn't find that thought weird at the moment, either.

It wasn't the first time he'd thought it.

Eventually it'd be time to re-enter the world of titans. Time again to face certain death. They could wait a few minutes though, couldn't they? At least here, Marco could pretend everything was okay. He could rest in false bliss and pretend there were no titans and no corruption and no death. He could conceal himself with Jean in their own little bubble, floating through a world of needles threatening to pop them at any moment and send them crashing down back into reality.

He'd live as much as he could of this day in that bubble.

He didn't want to wake up yet.

* * *

 

Jean had almost forgotten where he was. The prison? The barracks? Home? And what was in his arms? That was too warm to be just a pillow.

Right, he'd fallen asleep with his arms around him… he'd slept better than he had in a long time with Marco right there next to him.

Under different circumstances,  maybe he would have let go. Reel back and scramble into his own bed, and deny everything so he wouldn't have to face anything.

It wouldn't have been the first time.

He had absolutely no intention of letting go any time soon. No Shadis yelling at them to get their asses out of bed, no rustling around of other soldiers, no idle chatter about the room to disturb their slumber, no angry complaining…

No rush.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet. He was enjoying this. Marco's breath danced along Jean's chest in a soft rhythm, the same one that had lulled Jean to sleep. He felt Marco's ruffled hair- sure to make some impressive bed head- tickle at his chin as he shifted slightly. It was a welcomed feeling. Jean could wake up this way every morning.

Plus, Marco was really warm.

Like, screw blankets, Jean had a _Marco_. That had to be worth at least 4 blankets. At least.

After about ten minutes of internal debate- _Do I open my eyes? Kinda wanna go back to sleep… but we have to return eventually. Already gonna get our asses handed to us for being this late. But what's one more day? More sleep? The world won't end without us-_ Jean finally opened his caked-shut eyes.

Oh god dammit. Now he really didn't want to leave.

What kind of demonic creature would he be to wake a sleeping Marco? How could he possibly do it?

Jean pulled away a little to get a good look at his face.

He looked calm. Maybe happy. Maybe he was having a nice dream, or maybe he was just sleeping soundly. Whatever it was, Jean wasn't gonna be the one to ruin that, oh hell no. Titans could fucking wait.

It was probably around late morning. The sunlight filtered into the room, not blindingly, but enough to illuminate everything in its path in a soft glow.

You know that feeling you get, when everything just seems so perfect in contrast to what you've been used to? When everything falls into place in such a way that it creates an absolute euphoria, however temporary, and you just want to bask in it until the world won't let you anymore?

Yeah, that's pretty much what Jean was feeling.

He didn't know it, but so was Marco.

He began stirring at that moment. Welp, there goes Jean's hopes of a lazy day. God dammit he deserved a lazy day!

Marco pulled away just a little, enough to bring a hand up between them and rub at his eyes, like a child waking up from a nap.

It was fucking adorable.

"Morning." He greeted in a sleepy little voice.

_Shit_.

"Mornin' sleepyhead. Sleep well?" Jean asked, earning some weird mumbling noise in return from Marco.

"I don' wanna get up," He whined.

That was unlike him. He was a morning person; first one up, Come-On-Everyone-Let's-All-Wake-Up kinda guy. This was unusual. Maybe he needed a little more of this. Jean definitely did.

"Me neither." He agreed.

"But titans…"

"But sleep."

"But fighting…"

"But _Sleep."_

"Saving people…"

"Marco, If anyone deserves some god damned rest, it's us."

Jean was propped on his elbow now, staring down at Marco with a condescending look on his face. He would fight to stay in that bunker.

"I dunno, I think Eren's probably a pretty good candidate for that, too."

"Shut up, Marco."

This earned a small laugh, still clouded with sleep. God, they were almost normal.

Marco rolled over and threw his legs out of the bed, pulling himself ungracefully into a sitting position.

"We really do have to go." He said, his voice obviously downtrodden.

Jean couldn't blame him. At all.

"Yeah…" He agreed.

Marco stretched and got out of bed, moving towards where they had stored their clothing and gear the previous night. Jean made a point not to look at Marco in his boxers, for… several reasons. For now, he would go with 'Hey, it's rude to stare at your best friend when he's sleepy and in his underwear.'

He swung his legs over the bed as well, sitting up and stretching. Hey, soaring around in 3DMG all night after spending like five days or something in a damn prison was tiring on your joints. And shit, they cracked like a god damned symphony.

This was gonna be a long day.

Just like every other fucking day.

* * *

 

Marco went through the motions of dressing automatically, as he'd been basically programmed for the past three years to do so. He was vaguely aware of Jean moving behind him, probably just as reluctant to wake as Marco was. Marco just happened to be the more responsible of the two, or so he happened to be in this case.

He dressed silently. Jean didn't make a noise either. From tiredness or something else, Marco wasn't sure, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They'd moved past that once in their early days of training, and now they'd moved past it again.

After about twenty minutes, they were ready to take off again.

"I don't wanna go," Jean whined.

Marco could've commented on his whining, or told him to stop complaining, or something typical of him about doing the right thing.

"I know. Me neither." He agreed with Jean and flashed him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It probably just came off as tired. That's all he seemed to be feeling for these last few days.

Okay, well maybe not _everything_.

It would take them around two hours to fly back to Trost. Back to fighting, back to war. It was a cruel reality they knew they'd have to go face again.

They had left, Marco assumed, somewhere around noon. There'd be a long day left of fighting waiting for them once they arrived. Two hours. that left a lot of time for thought. And there was a lot to think about.

He and Jean would have to go tell everyone. The thought nagged him in the back of his mind, reminding him of all the horrors he had witnessed just a few days prior. The small needle marks on his right arm were still bruising and painful, a constant reminder that _they have to be stopped._

How would he even go about that?

How do you tell an entire group of people that their life is a lie, and that this hell gets even worse?

How do you take away one of the few slivers of security, of familiarity, from people and replace it instead with the knowledge that even humanity is against humanity?

It would be worse if he kept it a secret, he knew that. If he could persuade everyone, and somehow get the support of the other military branches, maybe they could fight back. Keep humanity whole.

He and Jean could go to their superiors of the Trainee Corps, but what would they do? What _could_ they do? They wouldn't be able to really stand against the Military Police. Marco considered the Garrison- they had the power, the numbers, sure, but would they use it?

If the king was using titan shifters, then who knew how many were out there, fighting against humanity, when humanity was fighting so hard just to survive?

He knew it was crazy to think about, but if anyone could really help, could really stand a fighting chance, could really do something, he knew who he'd have to go to.

The Survey Corps.

They were probably the only ones crazy enough, the only ones who would even consider fighting against the Military Police. The only ones who could possibly win against them.

Maybe he'd tell some of the trainees first. Eren, Armin, some of the others who were planning on joining the Survey Corps and who would believe him, or at least hear him out. Start small, get it known, spread the word, and maybe even begin a plan to fight back. Another thought occurred to him then.

A much more unsettling one.

What if they already knew?

What if the high officials of the Trainees and Garrison knew, but just couldn't fight directly back? Or chose not to? What if they were just sending soldiers to their deaths, just as the king was condemning innocents? It was a possibility. It was likely.

It made Marco absolutely disgusted.

And furious.

He tried to focus on his last few moments of peace before war. The sun shining through scattered clouds, the cool wind whipping around him, anything beautiful or poetic that he could grasp on to. His mind landed on Jean at some point in his thoughts. After what they'd been through- from the harsh days of training, to learning to fight together and becoming a team, to the hell that was this past week, it would've been surprising had he not been involved in Marco's thoughts. Flying long-term, while not particularly common, was always a good time to think.

The hours flew by like seconds, and they reached the Trost side of Wall Rose in what felt like no time at all.

Eren had covered the hole in the wall while they were gone, Marco noticed. He thought they'd been at a complete loss. It was a relief to see this feat. It was a relief to see that no matter what the king was doing to ruin them, humanity still fought. They were still a force that wouldn't be put down so easily. There were still titans wandering around the city, soldiers dispatched to finish them off, but this was a victory.

Marco was absolutely sure now.

He'd reach out to the Survey Corps.

They landed on top of Wall Rose, and Marco began changing his gas tanks again. Better to be full, because there was about a 100 percent chance they were going to be assigned on a clearing mission. Jean was quick to follow, changing his tanks as well.

"Cadets!" A voice called from behind them that sounded… surprised?

It was the woman from before, the one who had assigned them the mission in the first place.

Heh, if only she knew.

"You two are back." She made no attempt to hide her shock. "You were gone so long, we had assumed the worst… Did you complete your assignment?"

Marco exchanged a tired, knowing look with Jean.

"No, uh, not exactly. I need to speak with the Survey Corps officials."

She gawked at Marco as if he had two heads. Jean's expression wasn't much different.

"The Survey corps?"

"That's correct."

"What do you want with _them_?"

"That's classified."

Her puzzled look didn't fade. Eventually, she sighed and continued.

"Look, the higher-ups, the Commander, Corporal, and Squad Leader are occupied at the moment. You may speak to them once they are done. They should return in the next day or two, maybe more."

Marco nodded in response, and spared a quick glimpse of Jean.

He still looked confused as hell.

"I assume that has something to do with the happenings during your assignment, so I'm not going to ask right now, but I expect you both to report back to me after you've spoken to them. For now, go help clear the area of titans. We need as much help as we can get."

"Yes ma'am." Marco nodded and saluted her.

She looked over at Jean, glaring a little when noticing he wasn't saluting. She didn't say anything, however, before she was off.

Jean still looked confused as hell.

"Alright, let's go-"

"The Survey Corps?"

At least Jean _could_ speak.

"Yeah… I think they'd be the most inclined to help us."

"And just when were you planning on telling me that?" Jean questioned, a little demanding but not exactly angry.

"I just decided it on the way. We know they're the most dedicated to helping humanity. So, they're probably the most able to fight back against the M.P."

Jean was quiet for a few moments, face set in a scowl as he was thinking. Finally, he scoffed. Which, of course, meant he knew Marco was right.

"Yeah, that's probably true. But just how are you planning on telling them? 'Hey, I know we're supposed to be fighting titans but some of those titans are _actually_ shitty people that our shitty king hired to do shitty things to other people, will you help us?' They'd imprison you for criminal insanity, Marco." Jean scrutinized.

"Okay, well if I say it like _that_ , they will. But I'll figure something out. We have a while to think about it."

There was another short silence.

"Time to go back out there, huh?" The dread in Jean's voice was evident.

"Do you think we'll run into any of them? Any shifters?" He looked at Jean, apprehension clear on his features.

"I don't know."

"Probably… I can't imagine we're not on the list now. I'm probably at the top."

"Don't say that." Jean snapped, sounding worried. Marco couldn't blame him, he was worried too.

"It's true, though. There are probably shifters out there right now, just waiting."

"Then let's give 'em hell."

And the snark was back, and working its magic as usual. It lightened Marco up, reminded him that they've probably faced these things before and killed them. Together.

Marco took off from the wall first, and he could hear Jean's gear, signaling he wasn't far behind.

Building to building, past soldiers both dead and alive, preparing to fight what could be the most difficult battle of their lives.

* * *

 

The day had gone by almost unsettlingly smoothly.

Jean had figured, while he didn't want to admit it aloud or even to himself, that they would be targets for the king now. He was preparing himself for a battle, ready to fight for his life and fight for Marco. But, he got nothing. Just regular titans, not even a single aberrant. They took down about four together in the day, apparently no different than any other day. It seemed too normal.

It seemed like their hell wasn't burning them intensely enough.

They were in the barracks now, safe behind the wall. Well, really they were never safe, but if you kept that thought in mind, you'd never really be able to do anything.

Jean had taken his usual bed next to Marco's, no matter how much he may have kinda wanted to crawl into his. How many people would really notice?

Okay everyone would notice but still. He wanted to.

He fell asleep easily, probably before Marco. It was a rough day back- he'd almost gotten caught in a titan's grip once or twice- and he was about a week out of practice. Sleep was definitely welcome. Although…

He kind of missed sharing a bed with Marco.

* * *

 

The next morning wasn't half as peaceful as the one before. No lazy wake-up time, no easing into consciousness, no warmth besides a few blankets.

Marco wasn't too keen on returning to that.

He was awoken by a harsh voice of who was probably a commander of some sort. Maybe another squad leader, who knew. He hated it and honestly kind of wanted to throw his gear at them to get them to shut up.

Sleepy Marco wasn't always cute. Mornings sucked, and they were even worse when someone was yelling at you to get your ass out of bed to go fight ugly giant humanoid monsters that will try to eat you.

He blinked his eyes open and shook his head, hopefully shaking off the negative morning thoughts with it. Today was important.

It took him a few minutes to move past his initial morning grumpiness, but he slipped back into his positivity somehow. Today he'd talk to the Survey Corps, today he'd take a stand against the king, and maybe even push humanity further. He felt… confident, actually. For the first time in a while, he felt he could really do something.

Glancing over, however, Jean certainly had _not_ lost his morning grumpiness. He was currently flipping someone off who'd tried to wake him up after he refused the first time.

He smiled. Some things never change.

It was a relatively normal morning- the typical challenge of waking everybody up, getting changed and ready for the day, being given orders as to which section to clear and being wished good luck on surviving.

He and Jean were placed on wall duty for the first part of the day, and would be assigned an area to wipe of titans later. Given that, they were actually pretty bored, making the usual rounds slowly and enjoying the time to talk.

Marco could've been doing something, helping people so they wouldn't end up getting eaten, and he felt vaguely guilty. But, these were his orders, and he would not disobey. His entire squad was assigned wall duty, so there wasn't much to do unless he wanted to defy superiors.

He did not want to defy superiors.

Well, not at the moment.

He was cleaning some of the wall cannons, listening to Jean complain about how annoying the work was, when he heard the woman again.

"Cadet Bodt," she greeted, and thank god it didn't sound urgent. Marco saluted her, and had the feeling Jean didn't do the same. Judging by the roll of her eyes, he was right.

"Yes Ma'am."

"The Commander and Corporal are on their way back from the interior now. They left last night, so they should be here by mid-day today. You have permission to approach them with your… concern or whatever." She tried to keep her wording professional, but she lost it.

"Thank you." Marco nodded to her before she was on her way with her own assignments.

If Jean questioned his decision, he didn't voice it. He _did_ however continue to complain about cleaning the cannons.

* * *

 

Wall duty sucked.

Eight hours. Eight. Hours. Cleaning this stupid wall. Jean could understand cleaning cannons, it made perfect sense and all, but that didn't make it any more enjoyable.

Oh well, at least he was with Marco and not with Eren or something. He probably would've just taken the punishment for not doing the work instead. Okay maybe not, but still, Marco work was a million times better than Eren work.

Marco was called away at midday as promised to speak to the Survey Corps. Alone. Despite all Jean did to try and convince them, they still wouldn't let him accompany Marco, who looked apologetic but really didn't have the choice to argue with superiors. Jean watched with narrowed eyes as Marco followed the two officers that would lead him to the ones who would hopefully listen to what Marco had to say.

He thought back on the past week, remembering the hell Marco had been through. If the Military Pricks got away with that… well, Jean didn't actually know what he'd do. He just hoped they'd be able to find someone who would listen. Someone who would help them fight back.

Marco didn't return until late that night.

The barracks were almost quiet, everyone pretty much asleep or very close, when Marco finally walked in.

"What the hell, man? What took so long?" Jean tried to whisper, but it came out louder than expected. He'd been worried.

"Well… there was a lot to talk about."

Marco's voice had little emotion. It wasn't as bad as last time, not by a long shot, but it still made Jean curious.

"What happened?"

Marco dragged himself to his bed next to Jean's and flopped down on it.

"Bad?" Jean questioned, sitting up and looking at Marco.

Whatever he said next was muffled by the pillows Marco had his face buried in. Jean just raised an eyebrow in response. Marco turned his head, finally realizing he hadn't been heard.

"No, just complicated. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

His voice was laced with sleep, and he seemed to already be drifting off.

"'Night, Marco." Jean said as he laid back down.

Marco muttered something in response that was probably some form of 'goodnight', but was lost in his sleepy voice. Jean smiled; sleepy Marco meant calm Marco, and that meant that things couldn't have gone so bad.

The next morning was similar to the previous. People yelling to "get your asses out of bed" and lots of noise around the room as people scrambled to their posts and assignments.

The only difference is that today, Jean wasn't assigned with Marco.

Well damn.

"Oi, Marco, you said you'd tell me how it went with the Survey Corps yesterday." Jean demanded as they shuffled out of the barracks and onwards to their assignments.

"Oh! Actually, it was pretty interesting-"

"Cadets! To your posts!"

They were cut off. Marco was ordered on clearing while Jean got wall duty again. Reluctantly, they went their separate ways, Marco offering an apologetic smile as he left with his squad. In no way was that fair.

Actually…

It was confusing. They knew Jean and Marco worked well together, worked as a team. They knew they were the most efficient at clearing when they were together. So why would they suddenly decide to separate them?

Jean would do as he was assigned, but this question wouldn't leave his mind all day.

* * *

 

Marco got immediately to work with his squad, Squad 19, to dispatch and kill as many titans as possible. It had been a few days since the hole in the wall was covered, but many titans had managed to get in before then, and they weren't easy things to kill. Many still remained, so there were many other squads out today.

The question was why were he and Jean assigned different positions today?

He didn't think too much of it at the moment. There could have been a multitude of reasons.

For now, he took to a rooftop and beckoned the team to follow.

"Alright, so we'll go in pairs. Stay close to each other, because even paired up you can still need backup, as I'm sure you're all aware."

Nods of assent from the group encouraged him to continue.

"There's an odd number of us…" He noticed. "Oh well. I'll go alone. But still, stay close by to each other at all times. We'll go one area at a time. Got it?"

"Got it." They all said in unison and took off in the same general direction, following Marco's lead.

Maybe he should've thought about joining a pair rather than going alone, but it's not like this was the first time he'd done it. There was limited space for titans to go, and plenty of other squads out there fighting them. He'd be perfectly fine.

His team had killed three titans by the middle of the day. Not bad.

In fact, he couldn't see many titans around the area anymore.

"You all go ahead to find another area, I'm going to look for survivors on the ground." He commanded.

Maybe he should've searched for a rooftop, but again, he figured it was no big deal. He'd notice a titan if one was after him.

He reached down to scratch at his right arm, the needle marks still peppering his skin and making him fidgety if he wasn't focused enough on other things. Oh well. Things had gone well with the Survey Corps, even better than expected. Actually-

Wait, who was that?

Annie?

She, Bertholdt and Reiner hadn't come back right away. Marco wasn't quite sure when they actually returned. He began to worry before, but kept assuring himself he just hadn't seen them. Apparently, he was right.

He was walking in between some abandoned buildings, the area supposedly titan-free. Granted, he was essentially surrounded by dust, the area desolate on the ground with the exception of those two, but he was sure it was her. But why was she just walking?

"Annie?" He called out to her.

She turned around immediately, obviously recognizing who the voice belonged to. She walked slowly in his direction. Strange… but maybe she'd had a rough day. She wouldn't be the only one. He jogged over to meet her.

This wasn't the usual Annie. She always wore a cold, empty, or indifferent expression except for extremely special circumstances. Now she looked… remorseful? Pained? What had happened to her? Her icy eyes weren't so anymore; now they carried emotion that Marco couldn't quite place. He was concerned for her.

"Hello, Marco." She greeted simply.

"Annie, are you alright? Is something wrong?"

There was a long silence between the two. Annie seemed conflicted, like she was pondering something.

Marco wasn't sure what to do. Lead her back to the barracks? Take her to an officer? To the hospital? He was worried for her.

"I'm sorry, Marco."

"What?"

Before Marco knew what was happening, Annie closed the distance between the two of them. She moved so she was behind him, and wrapped her arm around his right side, securing her hand at his neck while her arm… grew? Was it growing?

Not only in size, but it grew in strength as well. It began constricting him.

"Annie, what are you doing?!" He asked, now frantic and trying unsuccessfully to escape her grasp.

Her arm… What was happening to it? It was impossibly large now, and it seemed to lack any skin at all, almost as if… as if she was…

No, she couldn't be. Not her too.

Marco turned his head somehow and managed to look her straight in the eyes.

"He hired you." It was more of a statement, of a realization, than a question. Even if it was a question, he didn't get a clear answer.

But tears started spilling from her eyes.

She snapped his head around roughly and he cried out in pain. Her arm, her _titan's_ arm tightened impossibly around his body, constricting. So constricting, it was hard to breathe now.

His hands struggled to get her off of him, but it was no use. He knew it was no use, but he kept trying.

He was pretty sure he was crying, too.

They found him. In the back of his head, he knew it was bound to happen. He knew they wouldn't just let him go. He just never expected the King would use the very person who helped him escape, a person who was his _friend_ to murder him.

He knew this was the end.

Constricting. She just kept constricting him until his breaths were coming in short little gasps, lungs crying out for air but unable to get it. It was the arm they'd experimented on that she was about to tear off.

He figured they'd wanted to destroy the evidence of their little scientific experiment. Of their torture.

The marks on Marco's arm began prickling. From lack of circulation or something else, he didn't know. But whatever it was, it raised to searing pain in a matter of seconds and he was screaming for it to stop with whatever breath he had.

Constricting. He couldn't breathe anymore, and he could only hope she was just suffocating him. But he knew her arm was covering his body for a reason. Dispose of the evidence. That was her assignment.

He could feel himself beginning to get ripped apart.

He felt Annie's grip tighten on him. He felt his skin ripping, he felt himself being torn apart, and he heard it, too.

Maybe he shouldn't have gone alone.

He was facing the wall right now. Looking up, he swear he could see Jean. The tears picked up their pace; he'd never get to speak to him again. Jean wouldn't know what happened, wouldn't know who it was, wouldn't know why. All he would know is that Marco was suddenly gone forever. Marco hoped they weren't planning a similar fate for Jean… oh God…

That was his last thought of before a loud tearing was heard and everything went black.

* * *

 

Marco didn't return that night. Jean didn't see him all of the next day. Needless to say, he was worried, but he figured maybe Marco was just busy with whatever happened with the Survey Corps. He wasn't like Eren; he wasn't some suicidal bastard who would go out and get himself killed. No, Marco was perfectly safe.

He could only lie to himself for so long.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart, are but a day."_   
>  _-Maleficent_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Yes this fic is still a thing that is happening!  
> Sorry I've kind of been AWOL lately, I've just been really super busy with life and kind of unmotivated to write.  
> BUT! I'm definitely not leaving this fic hanging. Not after the work I've put into it ^.^  
> I figured I've left this fic long enough to post it as soon as I was finished with it rather than wait for Friday, so here it is now!  
> Also, happy new year everyone! I hope it's better than 2014!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!!

Heartbreak is officially defined as crushing grief, overwhelming distress, anguish, or agony. Some describe it as the absolute worst thing a person can feel, the most awful pain someone can experience.

Sometimes it can happen over time. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, you're heartbroken. All the things that have happened just spiral and in a sort of snowball effect, you find yourself stuck in this grief.

Sometimes it happens all at once, in a single, soul-crushing moment.

This was Jean's heartbreak.

Days. It had been days. One clearing mission wouldn't have taken that long, and that knowledge loomed over Jean's head. He refused to believe _that_ could be true. He outright refused.

But he couldn't any longer.

Debris everywhere. Remnants of battles fought and lives lost. Death. More death. Everywhere, death. In these times it could seem to follow you, constantly looming over you as it destroyed the world around you. Even then, it seemed impossible for it to actually reach Jean or close to him. You could say reality was a smack in the face. Honestly it seemed more like a multitude of bricks to the face. Hell, a whole building even, just crushing its victim.

Jean was frozen in place now, eyes locked on a body that just days before he was cradling in his arms. A body that was now a corpse. A body that could no longer hug him back, that could no longer drift off to sleep in even, peaceful breaths, that could no longer work alongside him to get them through the day, that could no longer reassure him with bright smiles and positive words.

No… that couldn't be him.

But Jean knew it was. That was _his_ face that was ripped in half, _his_ freckles that were mixed with blood spatters, _his_ body that was mangled and bloody. Jean knew this body like the back of his hand. But he could keep lying to himself.

"Marco…?"

He barely noticed the woman who had approached him. The world could have been burning around him and he probably wouldn't have noticed right now. He didn't even know she was near him until she spoke, vaguely registering the sound of her voice. Even then, he was too focused on the soul-crushing sight in front of him to really acknowledge her.

Until she mentioned a name.

"Trainee, do you know his name?"

A name. She wanted a name. It was a simple request, really. He knew the name.

He knew the name.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it. That would make it real, and, God he did _not_ want this to be real. A nightmare, right? That's all it was. Just another nightmare. His subconscious just must have been getting a little more creative in its torture. He'd wake up soon, of course. There was no other option, right? He'd wake up, and Marco would be there, sleeping soundly a few feet away in the next bed.

Except he wouldn't.

His mind was like static. He couldn't pull out a single thought without a jumble of others, all revolving around the corpse in front of him.

The corpse of the man he loved.

And it took him until now to realize that truth.

Eventually he mustered words. They were spilling from his mouth anyway, his mind unable to keep the racing thoughts in his head. The woman got the name she was looking for. But Jean remained long after she left.

Nightmares weren't uncommon, especially among soldiers. Jean had his share of them. And god, he hoped this was just another one. He convinced himself of that.

But… nightmares never felt so real. Nightmares never came with this much dread, this much grief, this much soul-crushing misery just from one image.

This wasn't a nightmare. No nightmare could ever compare to this.

* * *

 

Most of the day was spent near Marco.

Eventually Jean sat down, eyes never leaving what remained of Marco. Other than that, he couldn't really move. Any movement was suddenly strenuous to him, and it was much easier to just stay with Marco. He'd always stay with Marco.

He didn't want them to cart Marco away. But he didn't stop them. He didn't have the words to.

* * *

 

 

Jean didn't sleep that night. His mind was again filled to the brim with Marco, but not in its usual sense. Images of his body- his mangled, bloody corpse- lingered stubbornly, and no amount of will could send them away. If Jean closed his eyes, Marco was there. If he focused on another sight, Marco was there. No sweet smiles this time. Now all he got was a broken face and blank eyes.

He couldn't even cry for a good while. His face had gone blank, almost emotionless, just like Marco's had been days before. Except, just like Marco, there was one readable emotion: overwhelming hurt. He was sure people noticed. And he was sure that's why they chose to stay away from him that night. When someone's so obviously broken, you don't go messing with that. Because there's no way to fix it. No way to bring _him_ back.

He settled in his bed eventually, and the room fell into its usual night silence. It was dark, silent, peaceful, calm- perfect for sleep. Absolutely perfect.

Jean didn't expect to fall asleep. How could he, when the bed next to him was empty? So pristine, so perfectly made, when it should have a soldier in it, soundly sleeping. When it should have Marco in it.

He imagined Marco there next to him. The soft snoring coming from his lips, his perfectly parted hair falling messily around his face, how _warm_ he was as he lay next to Jean just a few nights ago-

Now he was crying.

They began as soft, silent tears. The ones that fall when a person's really broken. Then, they turned into sobs. He tried to be quiet, he did, but the tears were already flowing. He was already choking on his breaths as he heaved them out, each inhale a struggle for air.

And there was one thought on his mind:

 _Marco_.

* * *

 

Ideally Jean would say he pulled through the struggle of losing Marco. He cried, mourned, and never forgot, but was ready to fight the next day.

This was not true.

Jean took a few days. People never took a few days. Death being so common, you moved on when it happened around you. But no… this was different. How could Jean just forget so quickly? How could he be expected to just keep going like nothing ever happened? It wasn't so simple. It couldn't be. Not when there was now, and would always be, an empty bed next to his.

* * *

 

It was Armin who convinced Jean to eat finally, after god knows how long.

"I know it's hard. I miss him, too," he was saying. Jean barely registered the words, anyway. "But he wouldn't want you to suffer like this. You're gonna destroy yourself if you keep this up, Jean. He'd want you to continue with your life, to choose a branch and be happy with it, and live."

Jean mumbled some sort of agreement around a pathetic mouthful of food.

If he thought about it, he knew Armin was right. Marco would want him to move on. But he couldn't even fathom thoughts like that yet. Everything was laced with memories of Marco. Everything he saw, everything he did, all he could see was Marco right next to him, always with him. And now all that was changing. And Jean didn't want it to.

Eating was a step he could take. But going back to fighting? Fighting a losing battle? Jean didn't know if he could do that.

* * *

 

Then came the choosing ceremony.

God, it seemed like an eternity ago since he and Marco had planned on joining the Military Police together.

Jean had made a pact with him a few months into training, after they'd gotten close. They'd go to the Military Police and live out their lives together there. Marco was always so noble about it. It was laughable sometimes, how dedicated Marco was to serving the king. He was so genuine, too. He honest to god wanted to serve the people by working for the king. Jean wasn't so genuine. He knew that. He was sure Marco knew it too. But they still made promises that they were gonna make it together. Marco promised.

Sometimes promises have to be broken.

It's not like Jean was gonna choose the Military Police after all that shit. No damn way. And then what was there, the Garrison? Like they did anything. So it seemed like there was only one choice.

Maybe all that shit Eren had said about the Survey Corps wasn't all bullshit. They took action. They were the ones who fought. They were the ones who worked for change. And wasn't that what Marco had wanted? Wasn't that what they both had wanted?

Jean was nearly frozen throughout Erwin's speech. He heard every word, painfully so, but they seemed almost unreal. Everything was so overwhelming, so much to take in when every thought of his was still surrounded by Marco.

It was difficult to stay.

But what other choice was there? A comfortable life in the interior wasn't even an option anymore. Hell, he was surprised that they weren't already after him. If he went back, surely he'd be imprisoned right away.

And how could he go back? That would have to be the biggest 'fuck you' to Marco there could be.

So he stayed.

And became part of the Survey Corps.

Maybe now he could change things. For everyone. For Marco.

* * *

 

There wasn't a night where Jean didn't cry over Marco. Not a single one. Some nights he shed quiet tears, thinking about their happiest times together. Some nights he hid himself away and sobbed, thinking of how Marco was much too young, and would never again experience the joys he found in life, and thinking of what could have been. And some nights, he only shed a tear or two, because he'd become numb at this point. But he was always thinking of Marco.

Time passed. He had to focus on missions and fighting to survive and further the survival of others. He figured Marco would have wanted something like this. Change. And maybe Jean couldn't yet get the change they'd both wanted, but he could work towards that.

Titan shifters on their side was a start. Maybe that could mean something eventually.

* * *

 

Sometimes Jean talked to Marco.

He knew he wasn't _actually_ talking to someone, but who knew? Maybe he existed as some sort of ghost or angel or something that could hear him. But, even if he was talking to no one, it was still comforting to talk.

"Hey, Marco. I miss you. I know I say that a lot, but I really do. This is my fourth mission beyond the walls. My fourth mission without you. I think it's been a month and a half, or somewhere around there? I don't know exactly. It's hard to keep time over here."

Jean spoke quietly, so there was absolutely no possibility of being heard. Someone like Armin or Christa would be forgiving, sure, but no way Eren would let him live it down. Or maybe he would, and Jean was just being paranoid. He didn't really care. He just preferred to keep this a private thing. After taking a quick look around to be sure he was alone, he kept talking.

"I have no idea what's going on, Marco." He sighed before continuing. The Survey Corps was going through a lot of shit lately, and he had a speculation as to why. "I think the king is getting worse, what with the experiments and all. I hear the officials talking about it. I think they know. I don't know if you really told them everything, or if they believed you, or if they figured it out on their own, but maybe we can work on fighting back now. I don't know."

The Survey Corps had once again found a building to clean out and call camp for their expedition. They'd been there for about a week now on some sort of research mission. Jean really had no idea what was happening, honestly. Well, no one really did. But they had to follow their orders.

He aimlessly walked the corridors as he spoke his worries. Hell, he didn't have anything else to do. They were assigned cleaning duty, and that basically meant you could do whatever the hell you wanted so long as you weren't Eren. All in all it was a pretty boring day. Not like those weren't welcome.

Jean was walking past another door when he heard voices from the other side. Normally he would have kept walking, but… he could've sworn he heard something.

He could've _sworn_ he heard Marco's name.

And if Marco was involved, Jean wanted to know about it.

He inched closer to the door, treading light on his feet as to stay silent and keep his presence hidden. But he had to know what they were saying. The voices were muffled, but some of the conversation could be heard.

"There's no question they're on the same side as us."

It sounded like Hanji speaking.

"Yes, but we can never be too careful. Shifters running around everywhere? How can we know for sure?"

This voice he didn't recognize.

"We've been working with them for a long time now. And their leader is to be trusted. They've gotten a lot of information for us, now is not the time to question them."

What the hell? Who's "them"? Any questions had to be saved for later, though. He had to hear as much as he could.

"The king's sending a hoard-"

"According to them."

"We're not going to question them."

"And why not, corporal?"

"Because we'd all be dead without them."

"And we're supposed to trust a dead trainee and his band of shifters?!"

Now voices were raised.

"Shut up. Don't raise your voice, someone could hear you."

After that the voices quieted to a level that Jean couldn't hear.

But holy hell was that a lot to think about. So this expedition wasn't for nothing, then. Apparently they really did have a goal. And when the hell were they planning on telling everyone?

* * *

 

The next day, apparently.

Just as Jean overheard the other day, they were informed that there was in incoming hoard of titans, most expected to be aberrants.

Well whoopdie-fucking-do. Wasn't _that_ just what everyone needed.

As usual, the soldiers were separated into attack groups, scattered around and given flares. Today's goal: kill all titans. A pretty common goal to have those days.

It was eerie though. Well, it always was, but today was especially eerie. There were absolutely no titans around for the longest time, so everyone was just left waiting. Surrounded by grass, a few trees and abandoned homes here and there, scattered soldiers, and the oncoming threat of an attack. Well, they hadn't called it an attack, but Jean knew better. He knew what this really was.

It could've been minutes. It could've been hours. Hell, Jean didn't know. Probably nobody did. But for so long there was just… nothing. Waiting on horseback and scanning the area for titans that may or may not be lurking in forest shadows or just beyond hills.

It was nerve-wracking, Jean wouldn't deny it. Anxiety built with every passing second. So he began talking to Marco again. He was nearly silent now, though, since his group was nearby.

"Marco… well, here we are again. Waiting. For god knows how long. I don't know what's gonna happen. If the king is apparently sending aberrants after us, after all of us, then I don't really see how we can survive this." He glanced around to make sure nothing was happening. And, surprise, everything was still clear. "But I'll fight. I'll fight for you and for every other poor soul that bastard's tormented or killed."

His mind flicked back to the previous day, and the mentions of "them". More specifically, he remembered that one man's remark about "a dead trainee and his band of shifters". There were a million things that could or couldn't mean, or it could all be bullshit.

"I don't know anymore, Marco. I don't know anything. But I miss you. And I-"

He was cut off by the sight of a black flare ahead.

* * *

 

_Keep going._

_Run. Faster. He could be in danger right now. You have to get to him before they do._

_Now's the time to fight back. Show what you've been working for. Show them who you've become. Show them you're fed up._

_Now's the time to fight._

* * *

 

Battles were always sort of a blur. Everyone was running or racing to get to the titans as quickly as possible, then running away at the same pace.

God… there were so many. So many of them. They seemed to come from all directions. Lots of runners, probably with some jumpers mixed in there, and a disturbingly low number of crawlers. This probably just meant there were more to come later.

There looked to be maybe twenty of them. And there was a good possibility that this was only the first wave.

Jean froze up at the sight. But he had to swallow his fear. He had to keep moving.

He tried to coordinate with a woman in his group. He tried to make a team with her, pair up so they could take down titans easier like he had with Marco. But nothing was the same. They couldn't connect like he could with Marco. They couldn't be as swift, as predictive of the others' movements, or as understanding. Jean was basically on his own now when it came to killing.

Being a master at maneuver gear definitely helped, god, did it help, but nobody could take on twenty aberrants at once. Hell, a whole army probably couldn't take on twenty aberrants at once.

But…

They weren't mindlessly killing.

They were running right past soldiers, destroying the ones who got in the way. It was as if they had a goal. And… that goal seemed ominously close to Jean.

But what if that was it?

What if that was the king's reason for this? He already was rid of Marco, so he might as well get rid of the other burden while he was at it.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Jean's eyes widened in realization, and he froze on his horse as the others moved forward.

These titans were after _him_.

And they were getting closer.

* * *

 

Jean ignored the angry shouts when he steered his horse the other way.

They didn't understand. Nobody understood. People like Eren would probably shout "coward!" and condemn Jean, but this wasn't cowardice, was it? Wasn't this just trying to preserve his life and fight another day?

If he died here, he wouldn't be able to fight. And he fought for Marco. If he died here, the king could just continue with everything and go on his merry way. No, Jean had a duty to fulfill first.

So he ran.

Aberrants were fast. Even on horseback, they still followed at an uncomfortably close distance. Jean's goal: the trees. If he could reach the forest, then maybe he had a chance. Maybe he could hide or something, he didn't know. Wait until nightfall and escape while they're dormant. Did shifters even get dormant? All he knew was that he had to get away.

Everything seemed to be going both slow-motion and high-speed. He was painfully aware every second that titans were behind him, possibly getting closer, and he could clearly hear every heavy footstep. But he was so focused on that, that before he knew it he'd covered a mile or so of ground.

And this continued, for god knows how long, until at last. Finally. The forest.

He bolted into the cover of the trees, hoping he could at least remain hidden. He chanced a quick look back after he was a little ways in, just to check, and although he could hear them, he couldn't see them.

Some of the footsteps began to fade. Perhaps they were tiring? Falling behind?

No. They had split up.

They were strategizing. Covering ground to find him easier. Smoking him out, waiting him out, or both.

And then the footsteps stopped completely.

And that was the scariest thing.

So Jean stopped as well, slowing his horse between trees and looking around. He appeared to be safe for now, but he knew that wasn't the case. That was never the case.

Tentatively, he dismounted his horse, and decided that being on the ground was probably a very bad idea in these trees.

He aimed his hooks up to a high branch and shot, connecting to the tree immediately. The top appeared to be out of reach of any titan, probably even jumpers. So that's where he began heading.

The small journey couldn't have taken longer. With each inch closer he got, it seemed like hours had passed by. He just had to get up there, then to the next branch, while the titans were still out of sight. And everything seemed to be going good, too. He was almost there, maybe ten feet away.

Then the footsteps picked up again. All around him, but one set particularly close.

And before he knew it, he was being knocked to the ground.

He was too disoriented from being hit to even get a grip on his sword handles, let alone aim his hooks and swing away. A few smaller branched slowed his descent, but they offered no real cushioning. He hit the base of the tree with a thud, breathing heavily.

"Hey… Marco…"

He looked up at the aberrants now closing in on him.

"Looks like I'm gonna join you quicker than I thought, huh?"

If you looked at them, you could see features reminiscent of their human selves. Beards, hair styles, creepy, beady eyes.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'm sorry I never fought them back."

And each one had the creepiest of smiles. Some with jaws that appeared freaking unhinged, and some just unnaturally wide.

"I think the others know what's going on. I think they'll fix this for you."

These damn titans. No, these humans. These were humans.

"For both of us, I suppose."

They were gonna enjoy his death, weren't they?

"Well… maybe when I get up there or whatever, we can pick up where we left off. Without all this chaos, though. Wouldn't that be nice?"

There was no point in trying to move. They'd catch him wherever he went. He could hear more footsteps now, more rapid. Another runner, maybe? Late to the party?

"Maybe we can sit on a cloud or something and watch the sunsets. Or fly to an ocean or some other corny shit."

They were closing in, now. Taking it slow, Jean figured. The one in front reached a hand down, ready to start the murder. And everything was slow-motion again. The giant, grotesque hand eased closer and closer to him, almost taunting him. The footsteps grew louder, though. Why were they still running?

"I've missed you, Marc-"

Suddenly, the hand was smacked away. Actually, the entire titan was smacked away, sent flying into the trees, and another titan stood in his place.

Another titan who looked completely different from these murderous shifters.

Another titan who looked angry, determined, and vengeful. Who was stepping in front of Jean.

Another titan.

With freckles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Well, I'm really not supposed to speak to strangers, but we've met before."_   
>  _-Aurora, Sleeping Beauty_

_How dare they. Each and every one of them, how dare they. How dare they think they can torture and kill innocent people, think they can just throw away lives like that._

_How dare they think they have the right to choose who gets to live._

_How dare they think rich lives are worth more than poor ones._

_And how **dare** they think they can kill Jean._

* * *

 

Jean couldn't escape when he was surrounded by aberrants all trying to kill him. But now, surrounded by aberrants, still wanting him dead, but with some titan fighting back, Jean was frozen solid.

That wasn't Eren, right? No, no, Eren's titan didn't look like that. Eren's titan was shorter and creepier. With gross hair. But, opinions ignored, this titan was _definitely_ different. And definitely a shifter.

And definitely kicking these aberrants' asses, holy shit.

The titan turned back after kicking the first aberrant into a distant tree, and in an instant it was onto the next one, punching it square in the face to send it down, then ripping the nape of its neck so no being could survive in there.

Jean probably should have gotten out of there. His murderers were too distracted by their new threat to actually follow through with killing him at the moment, so he _could_ have maneuvered up onto a tree and away from the chaos. But instead, he was rooted in place, watching titan after titan die.

Whoever this shifter was, he was pissed. The rage-filled look on his face alone probably could have killed. But he took down just about every aberrant before they could even get to him, fighting swiftly and expertly. Actually, it kind of reminded Jean a bit of…

He was too focused on the brawl in front of him to think too much about it then. The forest was probably encased in steam from the titan vapor at this point as more of the aberrants were killed. Even if he couldn't see everything, he could hear the tearing of their skin as their human selves were ripped from their giant vessels.

It registered vaguely in Jean's mind that every one of these titans held a person inside. They were all being killed… but, they tried to kill him first. And who knew who else they'd killed? Who else they were planning on killing? Maybe after their mission was over, they'd go back to get the rest of the Survey Corps? Or more civilians whose only crime was being too poor or sick?

Jean didn't feel much empathy for them for long.

Plus, they were being killed whether he liked it or not. Hell, even if he _were_ a titan, he wouldn't mess with this one right now.

He caught glimpses of it as it fought. This titan looked… familiar. Could titans look familiar? Well, sure, it's fighting style was similar to Marco's, but a lot of people were trained with Marco. It could have been one of them. But that wasn't the only familiar thing. He didn't know what else about the giant seemed like that… maybe he'd seen this titan before and forgot? It's features resembled… sort of reminded him of… Oh well. Stranger things have happened, he supposed.

It didn't take long for the rest of the aberrants to be taken out. It was impressive to say the least, and kind of frightening. Very frightening. But... for some reason, Jean wasn't as scared as he probably should have been.

He knew it was crazy. But the way this titan had stepped in front of him, almost as if- god, he was crazy- it was _protecting_ him. It seemed to have no interest in hurting Jean at all, it completely ignored him. Jean was pretty sure the titan saw him; he'd locked his own fearful and slightly confused eyes with those filled with both determination and rage, even if it was only for a second. Surely that titan saw him.

Those eyes…

No. What the hell was he even thinking? He didn't know this titan. Eren was the only shifter he knew. And this was most definitely _not_ Eren. Thus, it was nobody he knew, at least nobody he knew well.

And now, hopefully, this titan would leave him alone, and they could both be on their way.

Except that didn't look like it was happening.

Now their section of the forest was engulfed by titan steam as the remaining corpses evaporated. But he could feel those eyes on him, even if he couldn't exactly see them yet. There was no sound of movement that could indicate the titan was moving along, and it seemed eerily quiet.

Was it possible that maybe Jean could escape? Maybe he could slip away while the steam was still covering him and lose the titan before it had the chance to do anything. Maybe he could still do this, maybe he could live another day.

Or not.

Even with the cover of the steam, Jean could still make out the titan's figure. He could clearly make out those eyes, locked right on him. He was sighted, and who even knew what was gonna happen next?

So he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

His horse was nowhere to be found. Hopefully it just ran off during the chaos. Still, it would've been nice to have some form of escape other than being stuck on foot. Wait… his gear. How could he be so stupid? Maybe he could maneuver away somehow, escape through the trees or something.

But he had to move fast.

And… dammit. He pulled the triggers on his gear, but no hooks shot out. The mechanics must have gotten damaged when the first aberrant smacked him out of the air. Dammit.

The fear started to come back now. Whoever this shifter was, Jean had no idea of his motives. He could have killed those aberrants just so he could get Jean to himself to kill. He could want to bring Jean back to the king for his own torture. No… then why would he kill the king's servants? Could it be…?

Could it really be that this titan was protecting him?

Either way, there was a titan, easily capable of squishing Jean within seconds,  much too close for comfort.

And now Jean could hear footsteps behind him.

So it didn't like him trying to get away.

Even at a slow, even pace, the titan was still quicker than Jean's frantic running. Before he knew it, it was hard to keep up his pace with the ground quaking as the titan neared ever closer. Fuck. So it was chasing him now? Is that how it was gonna be? Perfect. Just perfect.

He took labored breaths now, running as fast as he could go, but still not being fast enough. That titan was catching up quickly. Don't look back… don't look back.

There was nowhere he could run to, really. Even darting amongst the trees, the titan could find him easily. And then that would be it. No more fighting, no more chances to defend humanity, no more chances to avenge Marco. Game over.

Thud. Thud. Another thud.

It was taking its time, too, the fucker.

Jean tried to speed up his pace, but his body wasn't having it. A small boost, maybe, but otherwise his pace was steadily slowing. He was already dead bait for this titan, he'd be even worse off if he stopped moving. Not that it would matter anyway.

He chanced a quick look back- bad idea. Awful, terrible idea.

A hand. A giant fucking hand, oh dear god. Here it was. This was the end. He could try to outrun it, keep pushing his body forward with small bursts of energy to propel him, but it was really no use.

Another look back. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck this was not good. The hand was getting closer, way too close for comfort

Run. He had to run, faster…

He felt something wrapping around his body.

And then he was in the air, kicking and struggling as much as he could to get out of the impossibly strong grip. And also probably cursing an impressive string of obscenities. Kicking the titan's hand did absolutely nothing. Punching it also did absolutely nothing. And, surprise, yelling at it also did absolutely nothing.

Jean was fucked. Fucked, and being taken higher and higher into the air. Probably about to be eaten. Great, fucking great. His yelling got more frantic, and his words were jumbled in panic. He was so fucked.

And… now he was in a tree?

And the hand was no longer wrapped around him. Looking back, the titan was just… standing there. It retracted its hand, and was just standing in front of the tree Jean was placed on, looking around on the forest floor as if scanning it.

So… he'd been right at first, then…? This titan, this shifter, whoever it was, didn't mean harm to him.

And now Jean was an idiot. Of course this shifter didn't mean to hurt him. The aggression, the rage he showed with those aberrants- that wasn't against Jean. That was against titans. That was an anger for humanity, one almost akin to Eren's.

But, obviously, this wasn't Eren.

So… who?

The first thought that popped into his head was the similarities he'd noticed before. He'd thought it was just the way this shifter was moving, the way they were fighting. It was all so familiar. But… no, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that. It couldn't be him.

The titan still stood before him, now staring right at him. Apparently deciding the ground was clear, it now chose Jean to focus on. But, its expression… it wasn't one of anger like before. It wasn't even neutral. Hell, if he didn't know better, he'd say it was almost… affectionate?

He actually scoffed aloud at his thoughts. No, he had to be crazy.

"No… no, I'm just crazy now." He muttered to himself to reaffirm himself.

Now the titan turned around. It didn't move forward, nor backward. Just turned around. It bent its head forward, almost as if it wanted to expose its neck to Jean. Before Jean could even question it, could even say 'what the hell?', the nape of the titans neck was being torn apart. From the inside out.

The criss-crossed layers of the titan's skin were seemingly easily sliced away, and a figure emerged in full 3DMG. So, it was a soldier. That much was clear. Though, whoever it was, they weren't dressed like a normal soldier. No typical tan cropped jacket, no survey corps cape, no annoyingly tall brown boots. Whatever this soldier was wearing, Jean definitely didn't recognize it. This person was dressed completely in black, and the only symbol Jean could see as the figure flew through the air was a red 'x' on the back of a long black jacket.

But this was definitely a soldier. The way they flew through the air, so at ease with the gear and using it effortlessly, and the way they used those blades, like they were completely accustomed to them, told Jean that much was true. Still, that meant nothing. They could still be dangerous.

Jean moved further back on the branch he'd been set on until he was leaning against the thick trunk of the tree.

The figure deftly landed on the branch in a crouch, as if they'd done this many times before. For all Jean knew, hell, maybe they had. They returned their blades back to their holdings, looking down the entire time as if hiding their face. And all of this was just painfully slow, every motion meant to draw things out.

Jean hadn't thought at the time that the purpose of that pace was to prepare him for what he'd see.

Finally, the person stood up, raising their face- his face- and locking eyes with Jean.

And for the second time in his life, Jean was frozen, at a near loss of words, with his eyes widening to an impressive size.

"…Marco?"

* * *

 

Marco didn't really know what to say.

Months. It had been months since he'd last seen Jean. Since he'd last spoken to him and heard his voice. Since he'd last seen his face, strong and determined. Since anything.

All these months… and Jean thought that he was dead all that time. Hell, he should have been. It was a real question at first why he was alive. Many things were questions to him at first.

But what mattered was here and now. On that branch, on that tree, in that forest with Jean.

And Marco knew he had explaining to do. He had a _lot_ of explaining to do, and he wanted to. He wanted to tell Jean everything. But that would all come later, after these first words. First words, after so much time, could mean a lot. They could mean everything. But what to say?

Jean didn't appear to be in any condition for conversation at the moment. And rightly so, Marco figured. Figuring out that the person you cared about most, who you'd presumed to be dead for months, is actually alive? Marco didn't expect him to be very talkative at all.

But there they were. And they were both alive, and they were both safe. Didn't that count for anything? Even with this whole crazy situation, wasn't that important?

The thought crossed his mind, and Marco smiled. He knew what to say now.

"I'm glad you're safe."

* * *

 

Few thoughts crossed Jean's mind other than "what the fuck".

That was Marco. That was most definitely Marco. _His_ Marco. Same hair, same stature, same damn freckles. That was Marco.

But how? _How_ was this Marco? How was he even alive? Jean saw him dead, Jean saw him. He saw his face, torn and bloodied, and saw his body, missing half of his chest. Jean saw him dead, all right. Jean sat with his dead body for hours. Jean harbored that god awful image in his mind for _months._

And now Marco was smiling again. That same damn smile that could light up the world. And, god, this was all so fucked up. But Jean couldn't help himself… already, that smile made him feel kind of better. He was confused as hell, but with that smile, he couldn't be upset. Hell, this was _Marco_. He was alive. And with that alone, Jean was anything but upset.

He scanned over Marco as he waited for more. An explanation, an answer, information, anything, but Marco looked just as lost, just as unsure, even with that smile on his face.

Jean wanted to say something. Anything other than just being dumbfounded, standing frozen and wide-eyed on a tree branch. He wanted to tell Marco how much he missed him, how much he… how much he loved him.

And then Jean wanted to fucking slap him and demand to know just where the hell he was for the past two god damn months.

But right now he couldn't manage either. He was stuck on that branch as Marco's smile faltered and his true apprehension showed through. _Say something, say something, something… anything. Say what you're thinking, say what you wanna say, ask him something, tell him something, something._

"H-how?"

That was all he managed. How eloquent. It was the first thing to come to his mind, and he mumbled it in little more than a breath before he could even think about it. It was stupid as hell, but… it was something. And now it was Marco's turn again, time for him to give some god damn answers.

* * *

 

There it was. The inevitable question. Marco was expecting this.

He sighed as he drew his gaze from Jean downwards. "How?", he had asked. It was a dense question, full of explanations and complications and intricacies that he didn't know if he could even fully understand himself. But this was Jean. Jean deserved an explanation, and much more, but Marco could only give so much right now.

"Well… it's complicated, to say the least." He finally begun his explanation.

Jean just continued staring- his version of a prompt to go on. It was the only way he could communicate that at the moment, Marco assumed. And he didn't blame him at all. Marco would be speechless if he were in the same situation, probably.

"I don't even really know where to start," he said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess it goes all the way back to the castle. The prison, and the… the experiments…"

He noticed Jean stiffen at that. So he knew exactly what Marco was talking about. Marco really didn't like to think about it much, he tried to push those memories from his mind as much as he could, but if they resurfaced, then he couldn't hide them. Besides, the king's little plan had backfired anyway. And now Marco could reap all of the benefits of that.

Jean continued to stare in silence. Another sign to continue.

"You know… what they were trying to do. Their plans, about the shifters, and their disgusting murders, and-" he cut himself off before he got too enraged by it, and took a breath before continuing. "And anyways, that's what they were trying to do to me. Try out some new serum to turn me into a shifter. They wanted stronger results, they wanted quicker results, and they wanted a killing machine." Marco detailed, and couldn't hide his smirk at the irony. "They were gonna kill me as soon as they found out whether or not I was a success. But we escaped before that could happen. So, they sent someone."

That part wasn't as pleasant to talk about.

No matter how long, no matter how much time he had to come to terms with his life, he would never, _ever_ , get over the fact that Annie had been the one to kill him. Annie, who he'd known closely, who he'd become friends with when others were scared of her, who organized a rescue mission for he and Jean. Sometimes it was hard to believe that same Annie could be so corrupted by the king as to accept a mission to kill him.

Marco still didn't know what the hell the king said to her to get her to do that.

"They… sent someone?" Jean questioned. So, he could speak. At least he wasn't completely in shock.

"To kill me."

Jean was back to silence after that.

* * *

 

Holy fuck. This was just too much information. Too much to be told at once. So… those experiments had worked? Those disgusting, vile "scientists", they had succeeded?

Well, given the fact that Marco quite literally just jumped out of a titan, and its body was still giving off steam, then yeah. Jean would assume that yes, they did in fact succeed.

But, as Marco just confirmed, he had also, most definitely died. Or, been killed, as he said.

Killed. While Jean was out complaining about wall duty, Marco was being murdered. Alone and scared.

Jean could have broken down if not for the fact that Marco was literally right in front of him, bruised up but alive, and talking to him. He simply kept staring, waiting and eager to hear more.

And god, not for a second did he question this situation like it was a bad thing. Marco was alive. He was _alive_. Jean got the chance to see him again, god, he _was_ seeing him again, right now. He was hearing that same voice, paying close attention to those small offhand movements, like the way Marco rubbed the back of his neck, or shifted his feet while he spoke. All of this was right in front of Jean again, and he cherished each moment. However, that didn't stop his curiosity. And Marco seemed willing to tell him everything.

"S-sorry, too blunt?" Marco asked, accompanied by anxious, awkward laughter after he noticed Jean's reaction.

Jean swallowed the lump in his throat, but didn't speak.

"Anyway," Marco continued, "after that, after I… died…" the word seemed difficult for him to say. Marco was probably going through just as much trouble to accept it as Jean. "Well, I don't really know what happened just after that. I was out for a while, I guess while the serum got to work. They must have thought tearing off the arm where the serum was injected would stop it from working. Shows what they know."

The way Marco spoke was different. Jean really couldn't blame him, though. Going through something like that? First off, it was hard to believe that was even possible at all, but still, it was a hard thing to wrap your head around.

But Marco sounded angry. Not outright angry, no, that would be understandable. Being angry with the corrupt sons of bitches that murdered you along with tons of other innocent people, that warranted anger. But this was a more internalized kind of thing. Jean had never heard Marco speak like this before.

Then he took on a much more serious tone.

* * *

 

Marco felt every word. He relived every sentence he told. And that was its own form of hell in and of itself.

He remembered his death.

He remembered the feeling of being ripped apart, feeling his bones breaking and blood spilling from his body.

He found himself idly rubbing at the arm that had been ripped off. Sometimes it felt surreal to touch. Knowing he was once missing that limb entirely, for god knows how long, just made everything feel a little out of place.

Marco considered taking Jean back to base before explaining all this shit to him, but he ultimately figured it'd be better to explain first. Not to leave him wondering, and have him _completely_  confused as hell when they actually reached base. Right now, Jean didn't even know there _was_ a base that Marco was planning on taking him to. Right now, Jean had no idea of its existence. So, yes, an explanation was necessary first.

But it wasn't easy. God, no, it wasn't easy. But Marco continued. For both of their sakes.

This was his story. This was how he survived, this was how he got his chance to fight, and this was how he was gonna get revenge on the scumbags called royalty.

"I woke up outside the wall. I didn't know where I was, but there were a bunch of other people around me. All mutilated, just like me. I thought they were all dead, and I thought I was dead too…"

It was like a flashback as he spoke. But he didn't want to end it. He wanted to memorize each and every aspect of his story. He wanted to remember just what They did to him.

\----

_Dark… it's dark in here._

_Where am I? More experiments?_

_I don't know what's going on… I can't remember anything…_

_Ok. Think, Marco. Think. I remember the Military Police. And the castle's prison. And experiments. I remember escaping. Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie. They helped us. Jean and I got away. We were safe._

_Stay calm. Calm your breathing. Don't panic._

_I remember staying at an empty bunker. I remember… I remember returning to Trost. I remember cleaning the wall, I remember fighting, I remember… Annie._

_Jean… I don't know where I am. Where are you? Where are you? I need you…_

_Oh god. Oh god, oh god, no. Don't open your eyes. You won't like what you see. This is hell. It must be._

_What did I say? Don't open your eyes. Don't open your-_

_…_

_Are those… bodies? Oh… no… that one doesn't have legs… that one… that one doesn't have a head._

_Something feels weird… wait, Annie… my arm…_

_Oh, oh god, what is this? My arm… it's… it's… growing back? What? Why… why is it growing back?_

_This is so messed up. There's still blood, there's still bone, but I can feel it, I can see it. That's my arm… my head, wait, my head… that's there too.. I'm… I'm whole again? I'm healing?_

_And these others… they're healing too._

_Where am I? Who are they? Why are we here?_

"Don't be frightened. Don't be afraid. Don't strain yourselves. All of you are injured, but all of you harbor a gift. All of you will heal. Just remain calm."

_Who is that? I can't see them… I don't know that voice._

_But… for some reason… I don't think they're lying._

\---

"I didn't know we were just healing. I didn't know there were others like me. All of those people, they were shifters too. And… well, it gets pretty complicated from there, but we learned how to shift. And we were all angry at the king, because we all knew he was at fault. I guess you could say we're a rebellion." That was as much as he could explain for now.

* * *

 

Rebellion.

That's the word Marco had used. Wait… back at camp, when Jean had passed that door. He overheard a meeting, he'd heard…

"A dead trainee and his band of shifters," Jean muttered.

"What?" Marco questioned.

"I overheard some sort of meeting. Levi, and I think Hanji. I didn't recognize the others. But that's what someone said, I remember. 'A dead trainee and his band of shifters.'"

Marco laughed dryly.

"So that's what they're calling me?"

"They know about you?" Jean's head was swirling with questions now.

"They better. I'm working with them. The Survey Corps is the only branch who really wants change, like us."

"When you say working…?"

Marco crossed his arms and pursed his lips in thought. Everything about his demeanor was so… different. Changed. It was still _his_ Marco, and Jean couldn't say they were necessarily _bad_ changes, but they were evident and… they piqued more of Jean's curiosity.

"How about I take you back to base?"

That… was not an expected question. Base? That could honestly mean anything. It could be camp for the Survey Corps' current expedition, it could be back inside the walls, or it could be something completely different. And Jean was even more confused, if that were possible.

Also, his gear was broken. He wasn't going anywhere quickly, anytime soon.

Marco probably noticed the look of absolute bewilderment on Jean's face, as he waved his hand forward.

"Come on," He urged, and begun walking to the edge of the branch.

"Wait, my gear's busted, and I have no idea where my horse ran off to. I can't really go anywhere, unless you plan on walking." Jean warned, but just like that, Marco fucking hopped off the branch. _That_ caused Jean to snap out of his shock. "Holy shit! Mar-" He'd begun to yell, but was cut off by a flash of lightning. And, right in front of him, stood a titan. Marco's titan.

Fuck, this was insane. This was crazy, this was impossible, this wasn't _real_. How was this real? Marco? Alive? And as a titan shifter?

A titan shifter who was currently extending his hand out to Jean, with a surprisingly not-creepy smile on his enormous face. The titan- Marco gestured his head towards the same way he had waved his hand. So, that must have been the direction of this "base", then. And… Marco was silently suggesting…Jean didn't know what he was suggesting. But he didn't understand whatever the hell it was.

He could've sworn he saw Marco roll his eyes before _shit god fucking holy shit what the fuck_ he was picking Jean up. Again.

"Oi! What the fuck, Marco?!" Jean shouted at the top of his lungs, among other choice words that Marco didn't seem to hear. Or, more likely, chose to ignore. He began walking, Jean in hand- thankfully he'd opened it once he was sure Jean would stay, allowing him to rest in his palm as he walked- supposedly towards this "base". That was Jean's best guess. He was still not the happiest about being manhandled.

* * *

 

Base wasn't all that far away. Well, not by titan, at least. It took a good hour at a pretty comfortable pace. Not bad at all.

Jean had eventually quieted in his palm, and resorted to just sitting, avoiding the direct heat of Marco's skin. It wasn't hot enough like this to burn upon contact, but Marco was well aware of the possibility of discomfort to Jean from it. He kept going, determined to get to base. _His_ base. Jean had to see it.

Finally, a building came into view. Jean visibly perked up in Marco's hand at the sight, probably figuring by the bustle of people around the place that this was their destination.

Marco was proud of this building. He'd put a lot of work into it. Granted, he hadn't been the one to find it, but he'd been the one to organize it and order its clean up. He'd been the one to bring people here when they needed it, but didn't know it existed. He'd been the one to help people, to save people, to lead them.

Leader of the rebellion. He liked the sound of that.

The building appeared to have once been a castle, but it hadn't been used for that intended purpose for decades, perhaps even centuries. It had been remodeled for its new purpose as a base for the rebellion. Marco hadn't thought of another name besides that yet, but he figured just calling themselves a rebellion was good enough for now.

People surrounded the building, each heading to another destination. Some to missions, some to meetings, some to training, some to what they'd been given as a job. This was more than a base, really. This was organized, and more sophisticated than any of those assholes at the castle could even hope to be.

Nobody was surprised to see Marco's titan approaching. It was considered second nature at this point, just a normality. It wasn't unusual to see a shifter titan walking around, and at this point, they were easy to identify from regular titans. Shifters were normal. Regulars warranted the use of a small army.

Honestly, it was a surprise they didn't attract more natural titans. Given the amount of people concentrated in one area, one would think titans would be swarming. But, then again, most people were still unaware of the amount of titans that were really just shifters, aberrants slaughtering for the king. Either way, natural titans could be dealt with easily.

Finally, Marco bent down with Jean in hand, lowering him to the ground. He hopped off, and appeared to be mesmerized with the scene before him. Marco figured as much, as it was no common sight. Jean had every right to be in awe.

Marco once again cut his way out of his titan form's neck, and maneuvered his way down next to Jean. He'd need to get some new gear of his own. And, from the looks of it, he could probably use a good bathe and some rest. God knows how long he'd been out there.

Marco gave Jean a few moments before speaking. "Pretty cool, isn't it?"

Jean's gaze was still on the building, and he took some more time to just take it all in before saying anything. Even when he did, it came out as more of a humming noise than a "yeah".

Again, Marco didn't blame him for being awestruck. It was a lot to take in. Especially when just a little while ago, Jean was cornered and about to be killed.

"So…" Jean began. "If… if this is your 'base', then…?" He was looking for some sort of explanation again. Which, Marco would have been more than happy to give. But, later. First, Jean deserved a tour. And then, a bathe and rest. Marco would insist on it. Jean was still trying so hard to wrap his head around this, to try and figure out what was going on. "Then you're…?"

"In charge of it all? Yes. I guess you could call me the leader of this place." More silence from Jean. "Let me show you around!"

He dragged Jean along to snap him out of his trance.

They spent the next few hours walking around the building. The rooms had been modified to fit their specific purpose- whether it be for meetings, experiments, or training.

Jean looked kind of lost the whole time.

Marco tried to explain what he could anyway.

* * *

 

Jean was, needless to say, confused as hell. Again.

In the span of a day, he'd learned that Marco was alive, a titan shifter, the leader of some rebellion thing that he didn't even know was happening.

Marco led him through room after room, and honestly this all reminded Jean of some kind of fictional future-land or something. There was technology he'd never seen before, and so many people working as an organized unit, even more so than any of the military branches that he'd seen before. These people had real purpose.

And… were those members of the Survey Corps?

Jean caught Marco glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, while he was too transfixed on Commander Erwin-fucking-Smith strolling down the hall with some people he only recognized as other official, high-ranking members behind him.

And Erwin-fucking-Smith saluted he and Marco.

What the actual fuck.

"Commander Smith," Marco greeted, going into a salute himself. But, this wasn't a trainee's salute. This wasn't the salute of a mere soldier, the salute of a scared beginner. His salute was one that demanded respect. If Jean didn't know better, hell, he'd be addressing Marco as a commander as well.

Erwin nodded a greeting to Marco, then shifted his gaze to Jean.

"Nice to see you here, Kirschtein."

"Uh, l-likewise." Jean responded, unsure of what else to say.

"I was wondering when he'd finally contact you." The Commander said, and Jean could have sworn he'd seen the faintest hints of a blush on Marco's face from next to him. "He would just keep talki-"

"Very nice speaking to you, Commander, but we must be leaving." Marco cut him off before he could finish that sentence, wrapping his hand around Jean's arm to drag him away.

Erwin chuckled, an action almost too light for the intimidating man, and continued on his way as Marco pulled Jean away.

"Hey, what if I wanted to hear the end of that sentence?" Jean teased, his usual smirk falling back on his face.

"Too busy for that. I have more things to show you." Marco responded, obviously trying to play it off. Even dressed in black, walking around proudly as a leader of some rebellion, almost like a commander, he was still cute as hell.

Speaking of dressed in black, somewhere in the back of Jean's mind, he definitely noticed how damn _good_ Marco looked like that.

But, not the time, Kirschtein. Not the time.

Marco pointed out meeting rooms as they went through the halls. Once they turned a corner, another floor was dedicated to labs and experiment rooms. This raised some alarm in Jean, but Marco quickly explained.

"Before you get nervous, it's nothing like the Military Police. Not at all. The other wing to this floor is a hospital for 'dead' soldiers and civilians we find. Some, we can heal. Others have already been injected with the titan serum like me, and can be revived in a few days. We have scientists who do minimal experiments, nothing to cause pain. Other experiments are done completely voluntarily."

Jean nodded in agreement, taking peaks inside the doors with small windows to try and see what was going on. It didn't look like much at the moment, but he believed Marco's words. He'd always believe Marco.

They continued walking to the floors containing sleeping and bathing rooms. All around though, it was all so strange. It was this whole other world, existing just under his nose. But, Jean liked it. It was structured, it was purposed, and it was dedicated to fighting a corruption that he couldn't stand.

The weirdest thing though, was how everyone addressed Marco as they walked around this building. Some stopped and saluted him. Others said a quick, respectful "sir" in greeting, bowing a bit before going on their way. Others stopped entirely, preparing for something- maybe being spoken to, or given a mission, or something weird like that- and had to be dismissed. When Marco introduced Jean as his best friend, they treated him with the same respect.

All of them seemed to look at Jean funny, though. Not like he blamed them, really. He tried to keep pace with everything Marco said, but he didn't fail to notice the difference between everyone else's pristine uniforms and Jean's dirty, torn and disheveled one.

Marco seemed to pick up on this.

"I could get you a uniform too, if you want. It's probably more comfortable than that." He nodded towards Jean.

"Well, guess I can't say some new clothes don't sound nice." He agreed.

Jean tried to take this in stride. He tried to listen to what Marco said, and just accept it, but it was still so hard to believe this was all real.

Marco led him to another room, down a couple winding halls. It appeared to be some kind of sleeping room, keeping order with the floor Marco claimed to be on, with about 10 bunk beds in the room. It wasn't cramped like the bunkers Jean was used to, and overall it actually looked pretty nice.

Marco had gotten a full uniform from somewhere in the room, folded up neatly in his arms.

"Here. It doesn't have to mean anything, that you wear it. I mean, you don’t-"

"What exactly would it mean, if it meant something?" Jean cut him off.

Marco seemed taken back for a moment, but he turned serious in a second.

"It would mean you stand with us. It would mean you were with us in our efforts to strike back at the king, the Military Police, and other branches within that that have become corrupt. It would mean you'd stand with us, with me, to stop the experiments, and stop the murders, and take him down."

Marco was proud. That much was evident. He was proud of all this, of his organization. He was proud of what he did. And you could tell in his voice, he _wanted_ Jean to be a part of it, too.

"Then, I'm in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, screw every two weeks, and screw fridays!  
> That's right! Random updates for all of you! Congratulations!  
> But, as a consolation prize, I shall give you: longer chapters! Yay!!
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the random updates. I have another fic that I'm really interested in writing, and I'm getting less interested in this one. But, I'm hoping that'll stop with the next few chapters, because it's gonna get more intense in the next one. Fair warning! But don't worry, I definitely intend on finishing this fic. I'm way too excited for the ending to just leave it off.
> 
> I might commit the ultimate fanfic crime and post the other one before this one is over... oops... but I'm writing it differently so I'm more excited. I think my writing is coming out better in that one.  
> ANYWAYS you didn't ask for my ranting on a fic none of you have read yet, so I'll leave that there!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, and they're very very appreciated! Reminder that I have a [tumblr](http://the-king-of-flowers.tumblr.com/) and anyone can contact me there as well c:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Yes, it's only in my dreams. But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it's sure to come true, and I've seen him so many times."_   
>  _-Aurora, Sleeping Beauty_

Marco turned around as Jean changed into his new uniform.

He wasn't expecting Jean to really want to join him. At least, not so soon. After everything happening so quickly, he would expect Jean to… well, honestly, he didn't really expect anything of Jean for a while after this. He couldn't have, and wouldn't have blamed him if he needed time to adjust to things. All of this was so new to him.

But Jean seemed to accept it, embrace it, even. And while surprised, Marco couldn't be happier. He couldn't ask for more than for Jean to fight alongside him, and stand by him as he took down the king.

"Ah- shit, god dammit-" He heard from behind him.

Marco turned around and found Jean struggling with getting his 3DMG straps off. His gear lay abandoned on the floor, but the straps were being as irritating as always. A chuckle escaped Marco's lips as he recalled similar situations months ago. Jean often got tangled in the many straps, and almost always required Marco's help. Some things just don't change.

"Need some help there?" Marco asked through a stifled laugh.

Obviously Jean needed help, and obviously he wasn't happy about it.

"No, I got it, just let me- shit-" He stammered as he continued wrestling with the straps around his legs.

"Here, let me help," Marco said as he walked to Jean and immediately began working on the buckles.

He started with the ones on Jean's legs, as those seemed to be the ones he was having the most difficulty with. Glancing up at Jean, he did not seem happy. Grateful, but not happy. He was grumbling now.

"I don't need help…" He insisted as he fiddled with the top belts around his chest and waist.

Yeah, sure, okay. Marco didn't stop with the buckles, and finished unclasping those on Jean's lower legs. Now, he moved onto those on his thigh.

"Of course you don't, Jean." Marco agreed, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

* * *

 

Jean could've done it himself.

He'd done it a thousand times before, these stupid awful straps. He _would_ have gotten it without Marco's help. He would have.

But, of course, Marco had known that was all a lie and of course Jean needed help like the freaking incompetent shit he was. Dammit, Marco.

Jean couldn't say he didn't appreciate the help. And Marco was always kind about it, never mocking him for not being able to do it himself. Always helpful, always nice, Marco.

At least Jean could work on the top belts. He'd unclasped the chest strap and disconnected this set of belts from the bottom set already, but he suddenly became all too aware of Marco's hands…

_No. Not a good time._

Marco was only being nice and trying to help, he probably had no idea of the fire he set in Jean each time his hand brushed against Jean's leg. It was bearable when Marco's touch remained at his calves, but now they were up to his thighs, and Jean's mind was definitely whirling in thoughts.

He'd spent months without Marco's touch, without feeling him at all. No brief touches of their hands, no climbing into the same bed when one of them had nightmares, no feeling of one's arms wrapped around the other in reassurance. And he longed for it, god, did he long for it.

He and Marco had been closer than any couple of friends Jean had ever known, mentally and physically. And he missed that. He didn't care anymore about whatever suspicions other people may have had about them, he just wanted that closeness again.

And now it was kind of an overload to his mind, even just those soft brushes of Marco's hand.

"Jean? You alright? Your face looks a little red, are you feeling okay?"

Marco's voice, laced with the utmost sincerity and concern, cut through Jean's thoughts from where he was crouched in front of him.

"A-ah, yeah, I'm good," He croaked out, desperately willing his recent thoughts out of his mind.

And desperately willing new ones from forming. Like how Marco was deliciously close to him, crouching in front of him like that…

No. Nope. Not going there. Dangerous territory.

While Jean was lost in his own mind, Marco has finished with the leg straps, and Jean was pretty much freed now. Snapping back to reality, he slipped off the rest of his straps and chucked them to the side. Fuck you, straps.

"Our gear has similar straps, but personally I don’t think they're as tricky. You don't have to bother with them now if you don't want." Marco informed him as he stood up. Then, a wicked grin spread across his features. "But, I'm _definitely_ showing you the new gear at some point."

Something about Marco's words made Jean's heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the excitement in his words, or the smirk on his face. Dwelling on it was probably a really bad idea, though, so he decided against that. Once again, dangerous territory.

Jean continued taking off his torn, disheveled uniform instead, discarding his jacket and beginning to unbutton his dirt-stained shirt.

Thank god he could finally get rid of that thing. He hadn't been thinking much about it before, but it was all sweaty and gross, and he was glad to have something actually clean to wear for once. He threw his shirt down where his jacket lay, and when he looked back up, his face immediately turned red.

Now, Marco _could_ have been just zoning out, and Jean was in his line of sight, but it definitely looked more like he was staring. And, judging by how he immediately looked away, Jean could guess the latter was more likely. That may have made his heart skip a beat too.

Marco cleared his throat and turned away after that, as if nothing had happened, but Jean could have sworn he saw the makings of a smirk on his face as he turned around. That did absolutely nothing to make his face any less red.

He finished changing silently, switching out his typical uniform for the all-black one that was apparently the norm around there. He couldn't say he didn't like it, either- something about all black was just cool to him. It definitely screamed "rebellion", and, it _definitely_ looked good on Marco.

Jean may or may not have spent a nice few moments just looking Marco up and down before he cleared his throat to let him know he could turn back around.

Marco's eyes flicked down Jean's body and back up once he turned around to face him, and he smiled.

"Now, shall I finish the tour?" Marco asked, nodding his head towards the door.

"Lead the way."

* * *

 

It didn't take long to show Jean the rest of the building.

It was a fairly decent sized facility, so there was a lot to see, but he'd already shown Jean a lot.

Their last stop had been the designated cafeteria, where he and Jean were able to get some much needed sustenance. Judging by the way Jean had basically shoveled the food into his mouth, he hadn't eaten in a while.

"And, thus, the tour is over. You're probably tired, though. I can take you back to the sleeping quarters." He offered, then got a better idea. A wicked grin spread across his face. "Unless, of course, you're up for trying the new gear now."

Jean _had_ looked pretty beat, and Marco was close to simply suggesting he rest for a little bit, and nothing more. But he perked right up at the mention of new gear, and the smirk on his face told Marco that Jean was _definitely_ up for it.

They walked quickly to a utility room, Jean apparently with a new excitement. Using the 3DMG had always been his specialty, and he was a natural since day one. Not to mention, he loved it. He spoke about it often, and Marco knew he loved the feeling of being in the air, moving any which way and maneuvering perfectly to wherever he wanted to go. Though, his skill probably had something to do with why he adored it so much, it didn't matter. What mattered was Jean's new enthusiasm.

Equipment lined the walls of the room, hanging on hooks and propped against walls. They were prepared, having more gear than was probably ever necessary. It was nice to have backups, though.

"Here," He said as he tossed a bundle of straps to Jean. "They're similar to yours, but they're much easier to get on and off, and they're steadier, too, in my opinion."

Jean nodded in response and took his jacket and boots off in order to get the new fastenings on.

Marco most certainly did _not_ stare just a little. Not at all.

Jean got it on seemingly without struggle, apparently much to his surprise.

"You're right. These are _way_ easier, holy shit." He said, rolling his shoulders and moving his legs a bit to feel the new belts out.

Marco went to grab the actual equipment  as Jean put his boots and jacket back on. This gear was designed to be lighter, more practical and feasible by its users. He strapped it to the belts in their designated positions, on the sides and on the back, and made sure it was fastened well. When he leaned back up, giving Jean the thumbs-up that he was now ready to go, he could've sworn there was a blush on his face.

"Ready to test it out?"

Jean looked pretty zoned-out, but he snapped back into reality once Marco began speaking.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

Strange… but, Marco wouldn't press the issue. For now. Jean _did_ have a lot of things to be thinking about. Him zoning out wasn't all that surprising, if Marco thought about it.

He led Jean outside to what had become known as their training facility. There was a nice bunch of trees surrounding the building. Usually the houses outside the wall had a few trees around them, but this one had somewhat of a small forest to one side- absolutely _perfect_ for 3DMG training.

"Isn't it a little dangerous to be outside when there's literally no defense against titans?" Jean asked not a minute after they were out of the building, eyebrow raised and condescending smirk on his face.

Now, _this_ was the Jean Marco liked to see. Not running for his life, not consumed by fear, not broken down by worry, but being a little shit.

"Who said there's no defense?" Marco turned around and questioned in response, mimicking Jean's signature arrogant look. He turned back ahead right after, heading for the gathering of trees.

Once there, they spent a good few moments just standing and staring at the trees. Marco finally had to break the silence.

"Well? Are you gonna just stand there or are you gonna fly?" He asked, and maneuvered up one of the trees to hopefully encourage Jean to do the same.

Maybe he should've warned Jean that this new gear was a bit faster than the one he was used to, as the next thing he knew, Jean had face planted into a nearby tree.

* * *

 

"Owww, fuck." Jean groaned from his position, uncomfortably pressed against a stupid tree.

Stupid fucking trees.

"Jean! Are you okay?" Came Marco's voice from somewhere nearby, getting closer.

And, there was sweet, caring Marco again, as opposed to the smirking, kind of really hot one from a minutes ago.

"Yeah, 'm good," he replied, voice strained and obviously not good.

"Ah, I should've warned you, this gear is more, uh, efficient. You don't need as much gas to go fast, and… yeah…" He trailed off, finally reaching Jean, who was still attached to the tree.

"That would have been appreciated." He said, then attempted to scrape himself off of the tree trunk.

And, for the record, tree bark on the face really fucking hurts.

"Oh, gosh, that doesn't look good," Marco said, worried, from beside him.

"I'm fine." Jean insisted. He wanted to use this new gear, dammit, and he was _not_ about to let a fucking tree ruin that.

He brushed the part of his face that had slammed into the tree- it hurt like hell, and was probably red and indented with the contours of the bark, but it was livable.

"We can stop if you want," Marco suggested.

"Hell no!" Jean protested. No way was a bunch of trees gonna get in his way. "No, we're doing this. Just gotta get used to it." He insisted.

Marco's worry seemed to melt away into a smile, glad that Jean wanted to continue.

A few hours and several small injuries later, Jean finally managed to grasp using this gear as well. Granted, a couple hours was quick for someone to learn, but Jean had already mastered the regular gear, and he was hell bent on mastering this one too. And, now, with much thanks to Marco, they were once again flying around the trees together. And now the gear was lighter, faster, feeling barely even there. It was really like flying.

It was sunset by the time they'd calmed down a bit from dashing around trees, and they now rested on a branch to calm down.

Despite the circumstances, it was a disgustingly romantic scene, if Jean thought of it that way. The sunset painting the sky in pinks, oranges, and purples,  and both of them sitting on this branch as if they didn't have a care in the world.

Jean was legitimately tempted to reach out and grab Marco's hand, just to complete the scene.

That'd just be really awkward though, so, no way that was happening. Instead, they sat in a comfortable silence. It was something they'd perfected, communicating without speaking, and being perfectly happy like that. And, honestly, it was kind of really nice to have that sort of serenity back.

He was content to just leave the moment like this, keep it as what it was for as long as they could, but he finally broke the silence when he glanced towards Marco and noticed him staring back.

Marco quickly glanced away, smiling shyly.

"What?" Jean asked, smiling as well.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" He prodded, raising his eyebrows. It was never nothing.

Marco sighed in defeat.

"It's just… nice to be around you again." He admitted.

There was a small few moments of silence again before Jean finally responded.

"You too, Marco."

They sat on the branch until the sun had set and the skies became dark, somewhere along the way having inched closer to one another until they were shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them questioned it.

* * *

 

It was nice.

It was nice to be able to forget the world again, to simply relax without a care in the world.

It was nice to be with Jean again.

There were those days in the beginning where Marco was petrified in fear of everything- fear of what was happening around him, what was happening to him, but moreso of what might be happening to Jean. He could have been captured, tortured just like Marco. He could have been targeted for the Kings murderers to kill next. He could have just been in pain, in immense pain from losing his best friend.

Marco hated every option. He never wanted Jean to hurt, and he especially didn't want Jean to hurt because of _him_. But he knew he couldn't have it _all_ his way.

But he had Jean back now.

It was kind of a strange feeling. He'd been with Jean, or at least seen him or spoken briefly to him, every day for three years. Those few months apart, being separated for all that time, it was difficult. God, it was so, so difficult. And a part of him had gotten used to the separation- it was a sad sort of adjustment, but it seemed like a necessity.

Fuck necessities. Fuck being apart, fuck the king, fuck this system, and this ridiculous war going on in the shadows.

Marco deserved to have a nice time with the one person he cared about more than anyone, more than anything. And he wasn't going to let anyone stand in his god damn way this time.

He pushed his worries away for the day- well, night now. He could worry about mission stuff and the MP's bullshit tomorrow. For now, he was much more concerned with having Jean's warmth next to him again.

He wouldn't deny staring if he was asked directly. He hadn't seen Jean's face in months- not a pout, not a scowl, smirk, or simple blank look as he stared into space. Marco just wanted to look at him, re-memorize the contours of his face, the intensity of his eyes and how they squinted just  a bit when he zoned out, the sharp angles of his cheeks to his chin, and-god- the curves of his lips.

Marco was honestly surprised Jean only caught his staring once.

He wasn't entirely sure how long they spent in that tree. It could've been minutes, hours, hell, he wouldn't have noticed or even cared if they'd stayed there all night.

Realistically though, they were probably sitting in silence for about an hour.

Jean's yawning eventually broke the placidity of the moment.

"Tired?" Marco asked, turning his head to face Jean, who nodded in response.

"Little bit. Guess running for your life and, well, you know everything else, can drain you."

"Yeah," Marco agreed, feeling he could use some sleep himself. He leaned himself a bit onto Jean, who didn't seem opposed to the shift in position. "You've had a busy day. I wouldn't mind a little sleep either."

Despite the implied agreement to go inside and to bed, they remained outside a little longer. Marco didn't make an effort to lean his weight off of Jean, but instead, ended up resting his head on Jean's shoulder at some point. And, once again, Jean seemed perfectly content with it.

Marco was pretty sure Jean had started drifting off. And, that was the cue to go inside.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, stretching a little before he did anything more.

Jean jolted awake from next to him. So, he'd been right- Jean had drifted off. And now he was rubbing his eyes to try and wake up, and the simple action was way more adorable than it should have been.

Suppressing some giggles from the sight, Marco managed to stand himself up on the branch, and extended a hand to Jean so he could do the same.

"Yeah, I think it's definitely time for bed, now."

Jean grunted in response and simply took Marco's hand. Marco kind of hated how much he loved that simple touch. It wasn't like it was something he'd been used to, and had to go months without. He and Jean had never really held hands. No, that would be crossing the line too far, no matter how much Marco would have liked to. But still, it was just a nice feeling.

They could do a lot of things and still name them platonic, but hand holding couldn’t really be passed off for just close friendship.

Marco lead the way in maneuvering them both out of the trees, and they walked sluggishly back to the still-bustling building.

A few people tried to stop Marco to talk to him, but he wasn't in the mood for that tonight. Just for a night, he wanted a break from being the revered Leader of the Rebellion. After he'd gained a following of about six or seven people behind he and Jean, he finally chose to address them.

"I'm heading to the sleeping chambers for the night. If you have any concerns, please bring them to Commander Smith." He instructed, then continued on his way with Jean.

Once the small gathering had dispersed, Jean turned to him, amused look on his face.

"What?" Marco asked, eyebrow raised in question.

"You sound so official. 'Sleeping chambers' and what not." He answered, poking fun at Marco, who scoffed in response.

"I kind of have to be official, Jean. Even when I'm telling them to leave me the hell alone because I'm tired."

They turned a corridor that led them through another elegant hallway and nearer to the sleeping rooms.

"It's weird. I mean, I know you were a squad leader and all, but this…" Jean mused. Marco understood, though.

"I know. I honestly wasn't expecting you to accept it all so quickly."

"Well, it's still you. Despite all this shit, it's still you." He said in a more solemn voice.

Marco nodded, humming as a response, but he knew there was a lot of meaning to those words. They both knew the meaning. In three years, the two had gotten to know each other better than they knew themselves. They'd learned almost everything about each other, and in that, had learned to trust each other more than anything. Where one went, the other followed, and that was just how it was. And now, it was like that again, as if nothing had changed.

Sometimes, change is good. Sometimes it's necessary, sometimes it's just something pleasant. But Marco was glad that this remained the same.

Finally they arrived at the room Marco was looking for. It was a more private sleeping room, only with a few bunks and reserved for officials in order to be quieter. One of many things Marco liked about this place was the sleeping arrangements. It was such a nice contrast from the crowded and sometimes cramped bunks from trainee days.

He entered, holding the door for Jean.

"We have a stash of sleeping clothes, too. Pretty sure you don't want to sleep in a uniform." He told Jean as he went to one of the closets in the room, the one that held extra clothes. He grabbed two pairs of nightwear for both he and Jean.

"Yeah, got enough of that in training." Jean replied, and Marco was reminded of the numerous assignments in which they'd had to sleep in uniform, or outside, or both, or worse. He _much_ preferred it here, and he could tell Jean did too. Marco let out a dry laugh from the memories.

"Very true. One of the best things about this place- it's comfortable."  He said.

"I'll say. Beats shitty cabins and all that."

Marco laughed once again in agreement and tossed Jean the clothing, which he almost dropped.  That earned another laugh from Marco, and a scowl from Jean.

Marco decided to actually change rather than just staring at Jean while he did the same, which was very tempting.

He didn't refrain from stealing glances, though. He couldn't help himself. Jean fully clothed was incredibly hot and handsome, but undressing, now _shirtless_ , and more- god, Marco _really_ had to restrain himself from staring.

He had to, though, and while it was hard, he was kind of looking forward to an uninterrupted, good night's rest with Jean.

"This bed over here isn't claimed by anyone, if you wanna sleep there." Marco told Jean, pointing to the bed nearest to the wall.

He went through the routine, folding his uniform as well as Jean's as to not wrinkle them for the next day, and placed them on a desk in the room.

The room contained five beds including the extra one, all lined up in a row and only separated by small nightstands. Marco's was the second one in, right next to the spare, and in front of the window.

Jean was in night clothes- although they were a bit big on him, but Marco wasn't complaining about that- but he didn't make a move towards his bed.

Marco sat down on his own bed, but Jean still didn't move.

"Jean? Are you okay?" He asked softly.

Jean appeared to be contemplating something, or maybe he was just thinking. Again, Marco didn't expect him to be okay with all of this right away. This was only his first day here, and, who knew if he'd even want to stay? Who knew if he really would like it here? Marco could only hope he would, and as much as he would like to say he knew Jean, he could never be one hundred percent sure of what his decision would be.

"I'm fine." He answered simply. That wasn't what Marco was looking for, though.

"I don't mean how you're feeling. I mean, about all this. It was all just kind of sprung on you in a short amount of time." Marco clarified.

Jean began walking now, and Marco expected him to climb into the spare bed- which, if he wanted, could be his own now. He didn't expect Jean to so casually lay down on the other side of Marco's bed, where he still sat, and draw the blankets up. Marco pivoted his body so he could look at Jean.

"It… it'll take some getting used to, that's for sure." Jean answered, and Marco could hear the sincerity in his voice, even if it was a little muffled by the blankets he had pulled up over his mouth. "But I don't mind. I want to get used to it. You said this uniform means that I stand with you, and that's what I want to do." He finished, and he didn't have the uncertainty that Marco would expect in his voice. He sounded sure, like he knew exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was simply to be back with Marco. The thought alone, combined with Jean's sincerity, was more than Marco could ever even ask for.

Marco could have asked just to make sure that Jean was sure, or to see if this was really what he wanted to do, but there was no trace of doubt in his voice that would lead Marco to ask. Jean was already curled up in his bed, and showing absolutely no reservations about this.

Jean wanted to be here just as much as Marco wanted him here. That was the only logical conclusion to come to; that was the truth.

"O-okay," Marco stuttered, accepting what he'd said. "Thank you, Jean. It… it means a lot that you're here. That you want to be here."

Jean simply waved his hand in response, earning a grin from Marco. He never was one for emotional moments.

"Yeah, yeah, now stop talking and go to sleep," he quipped, and Marco couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Well, when I said we had a spare bed, I actually meant-"

"I know." Jean cut him off before he could finish, leaving Marco pointing at the adjacent bed and staring at his apparent new bedmate. Jean looked as if he'd already decided they'd be sharing the bed.

Marco didn't mind.

Neither of them said another word, instead choosing to shift themselves around until they were comfortable and entwined in each others' arms, eventually drifting off to the tranquilizing sounds of their synchronized breaths.

* * *

 

Jean woke the next morning with a grogginess in his head that he hadn't felt in a while. Expedition work must have been hard yesterday, he figured, and was prepared to go back to sleep until he was awoken by Levi or someone else of higher rank than him.

But… why did it feel like someone was in his bed with him? Someone… someone he was holding close to him. No, that couldn't be, there was only one person he'd ever hold like that, and he was…

Wait. Wait, no he wasn't. Marco wasn't dead.

Marco was alive, in his arms, breathing soft, even breaths against Jean's thinly-clothed chest. Right- the rebellion, that was a thing. And Jean had joined it.

He didn't regret it. It was just a little much to think about in the morning when he still hadn't even attempted opening his eyes. Well, he wasn't in any sort of rush now. The air around them was so still and quiet, in such a soothing way. So, Jean went the fuck back to sleep.

When he woke again, the warmth that was Marco was no longer occupying his bed.

Jean couldn't help the pang of disappointment in his chest. He kind of wanted to be able to wake up with Marco on their own time, no rush at all. He wanted a slow, sleepy morning. Although, with a rebellion on their hands, Jean wasn't too surprised that Marco was gone. He probably had important things to do.

Finally, he willed himself to open his eyes. The light that filtered into the room wasn't too bright and intense like the barracks typically were, but rather it was a soft kind of glow, just like the bunker he and Marco had taken shelter at all those months ago. It was easy to wake up to. Well, as easy as waking up can be.

Not only did Jean manage to open his eyes, but he actually _sat up_ as well. Now, _that_ was a true accomplishment.

It took a considerable amount of rubbing at his eyes before they would fully open beyond an irritated-looking squint. He was still in those early moments of consciousness, when everything still seemed in a dreamlike state of being and not exactly real. It took him a little bit before he remembered where exactly he was, and what exactly his new situation was.

Right. Rebellion. That was a thing.

The room seemed much too peaceful to be a part of housing members of a rebellion. It was soft- could a room be soft?- and quiet and oddly comforting. Well, the comforting part may have been because Marco had occupied the room with him, the bed with him, the previous night.

Looking around the room, he noticed the other beds remained unoccupied. He had no way of knowing whether or not anyone else had even shared the room with he and Marco last night, given they were all pristinely made. There was a very good chance every other bed was occupied, and literally no way of being able to tell unless he asked. And, that being too cumbersome of a task for such a mundane wondering, Jean let it slide.

He ran a hand through his hair a few times, carding through his chaotically messy locks. His bedhead was always impressively awful, and judging by how he could feel strands sticking up at least an inch or two above his head, today was no different.

A yawn interrupted his slightly annoyed thoughts at his hair, accompanied by a nice stretch of his arms and back, his body slowly waking up. Maybe he could blink fully awake now. Maybe.

He glanced at the nightstand for a moment, and noticed a tray holding a mug, tea kettle, and an array of small bowls. Inching closer, he noticed the mug was full, apparently placed there for him, with the small bowls being filled with milk, cream,  cubes of sugar, honey- any possibility of preferences for tea. There was a note placed on the tray as well. Marco's handwriting.

_Good morning, Jean_

_I figured I probably won't be there when you wake up, sorry. I have many meetings today, and a mission later, so I may not see you for a while after you wake up. I thought you might like some tea, and if you're hungry, there's plenty of food in mess hall. I hope it hasn't gone cold, but if it has, the kettle will be warm for a while. Please, make yourself at home, and I'll see you soon._

_Marco_

Jean read the note over a few times, unable to keep his smile at bay. Marco really was a god damn saint.

Before he could put the note down and prepare the tea for himself, he heard the click of a doorknob turning, and looked over to the sound to see Marco entering the room.

"Oh! You're still here! Good morning- well, afternoon." He greeted as he entered the room, obviously not expecting Jean's presence. "How was your tea? Have you eaten?"

Jean yawned again before responding. "Haven't left this bed." He informed. "Woke up about ten minutes ago." He was sure his groggy voice supported the statement.

Marco crossed the distance from the door to his bed, sitting down as Jean scooted over to the little tray, preparing tea for himself.

"I'm not gonna be here long, I've got tons of meetings today, and then I'm leaving for a mission later, so I'm not gonna be around much. Do you know your way around enough to suffice  for the day?"  He asked, but Jean didn't much care about the question. He was more concerned with this mission Marco mentioned.

"Mission?" Jean pried, failing to hide his now piqued interest as he paused in making his tea.

Marco seemed hesitant, but elaborated anyway.

"Y-yeah, we have to…" he paused, seemingly trying to find the correct wording to explain himself without giving too much away, "…get some information." He finished, remaining irritatingly vague.

Jean took the tea cup in his hands, and turned to stare at Marco, quirking an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" He pried further.

Marco sighed, obviously conflicted, but seemed to reach a conclusion in his mind. "You know what? Come to a meeting with me. Everything will be explained there, and nobody will overhear us." He proposed, suddenly excited.

Jean couldn't deny that he was curious, and maybe it'd be interesting. So, why not? He'd like to finally know what's going on for once. "Alright." He agreed.

The two chatted idly as Jean finished his tea. After that, he was suddenly put into a rush as Marco realized he was going to be late if they didn't hurry. Jean dressed in his borrowed uniform again- though, now he supposed it was really his- and followed Marco quickly down a few hallways to the meeting room.

The few voices speaking in the room quieted down to a respectful silence as Jean and Marco entered the room. Looking around, however, Jean could make out the confusion and questioning looks thrown Marco's way. It didn't take long to realize he wasn't a welcome guest to these people.

"What is he doing here, Marco?" Someone asked, slight irritation in their voice only partially masked by their effort to be polite.

"He's going to join us today. I hope nobody objects to this?" He asked, though it was almost daring anyone to disagree with him.

"Well, sir, if I may," someone else spoke up. "How do we know we can trust him? This is an important meeting with classified information-"

"We can trust him." Marco cut the man off.

"We really should only have mission members here, with all due respect, sir-"

"Then he can join us for the mission. Problem solved. Anybody else object to my friend joining us today?" He asked more forcefully this time.

The room once again quieted, any other concerns silenced by Marco. His serious expression turned light and casual in an instant, and Jean was left speechless by it all. Marco seemed to be able to switch gears so quickly, Jean didn't know how he was supposed to respond to it.

"Here, Jean, take a seat." Marco offered a chair to him, waving him to the area to sit.

Jean didn't think he _could_ say anything. He had too many questions, so he decided to listen to Marco and sit. Hopefully this meeting would tell him all he needed to know, answer some questions.

Marco remained standing, though, and took on a professional character now. When he spoke, it was as if you had no choice but to listen with all focus on him.

"Alright, meeting in session." He began, but he didn't even have to. The room knew the meeting was in session. Marco had already commanded it. "As you all know- or, will soon, if you don't already- we've acquired a list of the king's employees. Now, I doubt this is all of them, as I'm sure you all do as well, but it's a start. We also know the supposed whereabouts of a few of these names for tonight. That's why you all are here. The people on this list have murdered at the will of the king, and they have information on his plans- who's on his hit list, what areas he plans on attacking, who else is involved, and when they plan to kill again.

"That's where we come in. I believe you've already been divided into teams, but I'll cover that again later. We're going out tonight, goal being to capture the three scumbags whose whereabouts are known, and get them to talk. Questions?"

Each word had Jean captivated- this time, not by the way Marco spoke, not by the way he commanded, but by what he was saying. The remainder of the meeting went in a similar manner, with Jean becoming both more disgusted, shocked, and at the same time determined.

Marco went through the names, set up the groups who'd be going on the mission, and he didn't neglect to describe the injustices that the targets had committed. These ranged from stealing from small towns and communities to make them fail, to destroying crops, to murder. It was sick, the things these people had been commanded to do. And, all the more curious, was why? The population in the walls was so small already… why would the king want to decrease it even more?

The meeting lasted maybe an hour, and was followed by two more of similar subject matter in different rooms with different groups of people. Jean stayed silent throughout most of them, just absorbing the information.

Once it was finally time for Marco and the people he'd chosen to assist him to head out to the mission, that's when Jean finally _had_ to say something.

As they left the room where the last meeting had taken place, Jean walked quickly to keep pace with Marco, who was heading to get his maneuver gear on and go.

"Marco," Jean finally spoke up to get his attention.

"Hm?" Marco turned around, all his attention now focused on Jean. It was kind of… intriguing. Marco demanded attention in every situation around here, but when he spoke to Jean, it was as if he transferred his position of power to him.

"Well… you're leaving now?" That was a fucking stupid question.

Marco quirked a brow at him. "Yeah…"

"Well, I- I wanted to-" Jean stuttered. _Relax_. It was just Marco. He was still Marco. "I want to come with you."

Marco didn't look like he was expecting that.

"O-oh, well… I don't know, it's dangerous, and-"

Jean didn't have time for the overly-caring Marco bullshit, as sweet as he would have found it on any other occasion.

"I want to come with you." He asserted.

Marco was quiet for a few moments.

"Okay."

* * *

 

"Alright, gear on? To reiterate: Team one, follow me, Team two takes the middle route, and Team three sticks behind. You all know your targets?"

The soldiers addressed all nodded in response to Marco's inquiry. They were in the front of the building now. Mission time.

Marco was partial about letting Jean come with him. On one hand, the last thing he wanted was to get Jean hurt or in any dangerous situation. But, on the other hand, he was part of this rebellion now. He _wanted_ to be a part of it, and he'd been just as wronged by the king as Marco, even if he wasn't subjected to the same torture.

Leaving it up to Jean had seemed like the best option. And, not surprising, he wanted to go. He'd have the other ten people on the team, Marco included, to watch his back and help him out, and it wasn't like this was a life or death mission.

As they maneuvered their way to the walls, Marco thought enough about it to be secure in his decision. He and Jean were back together now, that meant they could work together again. It may not have seemed like much to an average person, but to Marco, and probably also to Jean, it meant the world.

He considered just going titan and carrying everyone to a closer distance to the wall, or maybe even having all the shifters on the three teams he'd organized shift to make travel easier, but there was nothing wrong with being a little later. They'd all brought extra gas tanks, and they had to be absolutely sure they reached the walls after dark anyway. They could not risk getting caught by the Guard or the rest of the Military Police.

The wall took a good hour or two to reach by gear alone, and gas tanks were changed once along the way. Once they reached the wall, they had to be very meticulous about how they went about things. They landed outside a portion of the wall that they'd monitored and discovered remained unguarded for some time at night.

A quick headcount confirmed all members of his team were present, Jean included. He looked determined, almost dark in a way. There was no trace of fear to be found by looking at him, and Marco would be able to tell by a glance how Jean felt. Knowing his confidence in this boosted Marco's own confidence tenfold.

"Alright," he whispered, loud enough that everyone could hear but still wary that they could get caught. "You know the routes, and you know the destination, correct?" He asked, and a nod of all heads in the team prompted him further. "You all know the schedules we've gathered of the guards. We shouldn't hit them if we climb up this section of the wall right now, but just in case, I'll be going first." He scanned his team's faces until he found Jean's, and beckoned him forward. "And I'll be leading with him."

There were some audible sighs that Marco did not approve of, and Jean's air of confidence wavered as he stepped from the group and up to Marco.

"Are you sure you want me in the front with you?" He asked, and Marco could tell he knew that the rest of the team wasn't quite as enthusiastic as him about having Jean as their new addition.

"Yes, Jean, of course I am." He assured, momentarily replacing his serious tone with a gentler one for him. He turned back to the team with a bit of a scowl. "Look. I know you all don't want him here. And you're all going to have to suck it the fuck up, because he's joined us, and he's here to stay if he so pleases." The group was still obviously disapproving of Marco's decision, but none of them dared to question him. Marco didn't want that, though. He wanted them to accept Jean for how great he knew he was. "He's valuable to this team, you understand? He can fight, he's as good a leader as I am if not better, and I'd trust him- and I have- with my life. If you don’t believe me, I promise you'll see after tonight."

Not too bad of a speech, if he did say so himself. But, now was mission time.

"Alright, let's go."

And with that, they were off, Marco and Jean leading the front, and the rest of the team following behind them, scaling the wall. It was almost a familiar feeling, in a way. Marco recalled back to he and Jean's trainee days. Sometimes they would sneak out during their free time and hide behind walls of the outlier districts. It was a nice escape, but when they found themselves out for too long, they'd have to rush up the walls just like this to head back to camp.

The two reached the top and in a fraction of a second were ready to fight if need be. Looking around, the area seemed safe, and they relaxed their positions.

"Clear!" Jean whisper-shouted to the rest of the team, signaling them to come up as well.

This was a serious, important mission, but Marco didn't fight the smile that spread across his face as Jean reverted back to the leadership role he'd always held so well. Sure, Marco technically led this rebellion, but he wouldn't mind at all sharing that position with Jean. Actually, few things would've made him happier.

Looking around, this area of the wall was safe. The nearest person must have been a mile away, and nobody was waiting at the bottom of the wall either. As long as they remained in the shadows, the trek from Maria to Rose would be a cinch. After that, it could get a bit tougher with the civilians, but the shadows were their friend, and people didn't like questioning what was around them. Not in these times. After Rose, they'd finally be in Sina to intercept the cart carrying their target. Everything was going according to plan.

Everyone was silent as they maneuvered their way around crumbled buildings and what used to be cities on their way to Rose. The pathways were eerily quiet, but it wasn't an unexpected scene. Nobody had been here besides soldiers since the colossal titan attack all those years ago.

There was a bit more apprehension as Marco and Jean scaled wall Rose. That would surely have more soldiers on patrol, and there was no guarantee the spot they'd marked as a free zone would actually be clear. It was down to just hoping and praying at this point- if they ran into other soldiers, that would surely mean a fight, and abandonment of the mission.

Marco flicked his eyes over to Jean as they climbed the wall, and if he was nervous, then he showed absolutely no sign of it. This was the Jean he'd gone on missions with in the past, this was the determined leader that Marco knew and loved.

Marco stopped just before he got to the top of the wall, and Jean quickly followed his move.

"Approach with caution. We don't know who may be up there." Marco instructed in a whisper, to which Jean nodded in response. He didn't even have to; Marco knew he understood.

Peeking over the wall, nobody appeared to be around. It was… a little strange, really. But, Marco had people study the area. No one was supposed to be there, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

"We have to hurry now." Marco was surprised to hear those words coming from Jean. But he didn't have to say anything else- Marco knew. Guards could come at any moment, and civilians were always a threat as well.

Marco signaled for the rest of the team to come up too, and they had to make their way much more carefully through here than through the desolation in Maria.

This mission was so important, it was crucial to the rebellion, and had to be taken seriously. But… Marco couldn't help how he snuck frequent glances at Jean, or found himself with a small smile on his face every now and then. The way they maneuvered together, the way they ran together, it was as if nothing had changed between them. It was as if they were the same best friends that they were before, only now working for a different cause.

Sticking to the shadows wasn't too difficult, and eventually, they came across Wall Sina. Beyond there, the real work would begin.

* * *

 

Round three of scaling the walls.

Jean had to rid himself of any anxiety he had about this mission before the mission actually began. No matter what happened, and no matter what Marco's team thought of him, he had couldn't bail out on them. He was with Marco now, and he had a job to do.

He gladly took the job of making sure the area was clear with Marco. First of all, he was eager to offer any help he could give. Second, he really wanted this mission to succeed and give a nice "fuck you" to the king. Third… he was with Marco again, working with him. It was a nice feeling, despite the situation.

Sina was sure to have more security than the other walls. Of course, the king only cared about protecting himself and his army. Figured. There was no time to make sure the area was clear this time, really. He and Marco were only a few feet in front of the others, and as soon as it appeared that no one was around, it was a rush to get back down the wall.

The dash was a blur. There was no time to think, the only thing that Jean could afford to have on his mind was "run". Before he knew it, he was on the other side, breathing a little heavier next to Marco as they were finally in the clear.

Then it was back behind the bushes, back to concealing themselves in the shadows, being wary of possible Military Police in the area and being cautious of civilians. That is, until they reached it- the one road that would bring their target to them.

A few carts and carriages passed in the minutes they were waiting there, and the whole team was on the lookout. Jean was told what to look for, how to spot the right one, and he was determined to be a valuable part of this team just like anyone else. Not just because Marco wanted him there, but because he wanted to be there.

Finally a cart caught his eye that could be the exact one they were looking for.

"Marco, up ahead to the right." Jean whispered to notify him.

Marco turned to listen, then focused his attention on what Jean had pointed out. It was a little hard to see from their vantage point, but Jean was sure this was it. The flashy design of the thing, the freaking rich-people horses, the intricacies of its make- this was the scum they had to take out.

Marco nodded when he caught sight of it.

"I think you're right," he affirmed, and Jean couldn't help the small surge of pride that bubbled in his chest. "Wait for further instruction, it's not certain that's our target. But, I'm pretty sure of it." Marco instructed the rest of the team.

Everyone instinctively readied their gear for an attack, Jean included. Hands on his swords, he kept his eyes on the cart heading their way.

"Target confirmed. Await signal and proceed with caution. You never know when something could be a trap." Marco instructed once the cart had neared enough to be identified. Yup, that was definitely it.

The moments before the attack were painfully silent. Everything was still behind the bushes, but life continued on beyond them. Carriages still rode carefree to their destinations and rich people lived their rich-people lives with no worries. The only thing Jean could hear besides the rattling of wheels on cobblestone pavement was his own breathing and his heartbeat, seemingly much too loud for the moment.

Closer the cart came, unsuspecting victims inside. Well, could they really be called victims? The man inside had killed, murdered innocent people… did he have the right to be called a victim  
anymore?

No, he didn't. He was just a poor, disgusting asshole excuse of an human being now.

Marco's whispering voice snapped Jean from his angry thoughts that were quickly turning sour, his voice low but still commanding.

"Now."

And all hell broke loose.

Marco was the first out of the bushes, and two others hopped in front of the cart to stop its movement. Two more soldiers moved to the back, and one flanked Marco as he headed to one door to open it. Jean took the other side, in charge of flinging the door opposite Marco open and guarding it with another soldier to make sure their target didn't escape.

It happened in one huge rush, everything happening almost too quickly to register. Jean was at the door with the soldier behind him, and when he threw it open, the sight he was greeted with was honestly frightening.

He'd _never_ seen Marco look so enraged before, and he'd never seen a member of the Military Police look so scared shitless.

The guy tried to scramble away from Marco, but he was simply met with Jean. And Jean was pissed the fuck off. Judging by the guy's face, Jean wasn't much safer than Marco.

"Dierk Rothstein," Marco began, angered expression melding into a terrifying smile. "I need some information from you."

* * *

 

Marco and his team dragged the man to a warehouse building that their inside crew had found for them, bound so he couldn't see where they were taking him or try to escape.

The building itself was only one floor on the surface, but it contained two floors of basement. The lower basement was already prepped, containing everything they'd need for this interrogation and prepared with safety mechanisms in case the guy tried anything sneaky or tried to escape.

The journey there, while short, wasn't easy. Not with a struggling man who wouldn't just shut up for two seconds. They arrived without arousing any suspicion, somehow- hopefully- and managed to get Rothstein into the building.

Maybe if circumstances were different, Marco wouldn't take this route. Maybe he'd try to find the "nice" way to do things, the "peaceful" way to fix things. That wasn't an option anymore. People were dying, and no amount of peaceful complaints would stop it.

Two men waited as guard on the upper floor of the warehouse while Marco and the others continued to the lower level. While they walked, Marco chanced another look at Jean. He'd been stealing glances throughout the mission- and _not_ for what would normally be the reason, he might add.

He wanted to see how Jean fared during this, if he was really as on board with the rebellion as he said. It would even be okay if he weren't, it's just… Marco wanted to know. He _wanted_ Jean to be with him, in every way the term implied, but only if Jean wanted it too. Only if Jean could handle it.

And, judging by how the mission was going so far, Marco could say that his wish wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He and Jean took over carrying the guy into the middle of the basement room, and after a mutual nod of understanding, tossed the scumbag on the ground. Marco noted that Jean used quite a bit more force than him.

A soldier dragged a chair into the middle of the room, a few feet from the man. Rope and other necessities to make sure he remained still and quiet- well, when they needed him to be- were already placed in the room. All that was left now was to get him all set up and get a little information out of him.

A wicked smirk crossed Marco's face for a moment.

He wasn’t going to regret this. At all.

If he let himself, even for a moment, the mission would fail. He had to constantly remind himself that this man wasn't worth his empathy, didn't deserve kindness in any form. He didn't deserve to be spared. He'd lost that right when he murdered innocent families for money.

"Alright now, let's get started, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the almost 10k word "I'm so sorry for not updating for like 3 months" chapter!  
> I'm so sorry for not updating for like 3 months! I've been having extreme writers block. Like, 3 sentences every few days if I'm lucky. So this is what I've got! I had more plans for the chapter, but I'm cutting it off here because. More on this crazy torture mission next time, and more dark!Marco (and dark!Jean) to come!  
> Also, I realize I'm not really developing their relationship too well and for that I sincerely apologize. Hence the fluff in the beginning of the chapter. Hopefully I'll get past this gross writer's block and make everything better.  
> And, dear anyone still reading this, you're awesome and i love you


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"But don't you remember? We've met before."_   
>  _-Prince Phillip_

The basement room that Jean and the rest of the team were in was dark- more than just dimly lit, but with an underlying sinister air. The weapons lying around, which would become torture weapons if Jean inferred correctly, and the light gathered in the center of the room where the man was being strapped down to a chair.

It was like some sort of torture chamber. Well… for tonight, he guessed, that's what it would be.

Jean stood back after the man- Rothstein- was restrained in the chair.

And just like that, Marco's entire demeanor changed. His usual soft smiles and warm expressions were apparently shoved to the side, replaced so easily with condescending looks and almost evil grins. If Jean didn't know who Marco really was… well, honestly, he'd be terrified.

And the way he spoke, with condemnation and spite dripping from his words, an almost sadistic edge in his voice, was something Jean never thought he'd even be capable of.

He would definitely not want to be in Rothstein's position right now.

It had started out with just talking, like a simple interrogation. Mainly questions that Jean knew Marco already knew the answer to.

"Where were you heading?"

"You have another 'mission' tomorrow, don't you?"

"How many people have you murdered?"

The man denied almost everything. He was innocent, heading home, he knew nothing about a mission. And it may have even convinced Jean if he didn't know better.

Then Marco grabbed a knife, and the man's face visibly paled. Jean didn't blame him- he also didn't pity him.

"You're not giving me the truth, Rothstein." Marco paced around the chair, swinging his knife as if it were completely casual. "You're not gonna make me resort to other measures, are you? I really didn't want to get my hands dirty tonight."

This wasn't the Marco that Jean knew… and whether or not this was a really good act or a genuine reflection on Marco's new attitude was almost completely indiscernible.

Though, the more Jean thought about it, the more he could understand if this wasn't an act. Marco was nearly sadistic in nature right now, threatening words and a room full of torture weapons that Jean didn't know if he'd be hesitant to use. It wasn't like this was some innocent guy that didn't deserve any of this. No, this man would deserve everything he was gonna get.

Jean didn't want to just sit back and watch like a scared child, either. Maybe he wasn't prepared to go to the lengths that Marco was at the moment, but he didn't want this scum thinking that Marco was the only one after him.

Jean didn't notice he was death-glaring at the man in the chair until he realized that his expression went from desperately-trying-to-stay-calm to freaking-the-fuck-out just by looking in Jean's direction.

Huh. He was kinda proud of that.

* * *

 

This bastard still wasn't talking.

There wasn't a doubt in Marco's mind that this was the right guy. His fear, if nothing else, confirmed his crime. An innocent man wouldn't act the way this one did.

"Amsel. Krause. Durr. Hahn. Trommler. Any of these names ring a bell?" Marco asked with the most bitter tone he could manage. Those were just a handful of families this man had killed. Murdered in cold blood, for no reason other than being sick, poor, or in opposition to the king's corruption.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, this is absurd-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and this will go much quicker if you'd stop feigning innocence and answer my god damn questions." Marco didn't give him any time for bullshit answers.

The man appeared to be straining now to keep up his acts of confusion, and Marco noticed he kept glancing in a certain direction. Curious, he turned around to see just what was so interesting. He was met with Jean, looking just as angry as he himself felt.

"I-I told you, I'm, I'm not-"

"Stop. Just stop, alright? It's not getting you anywhere. And, I don't think I'm the only one with a grudge against you." Marco interrupted his bullshit again, now acknowledging Jean's apparent anger as well. He turned around, locking eyes with Jean, giving him silent permission to step forward or say something if he wanted to. He wasn't sure if Jean got the message, but he was curious to see if he'd step in here. It wouldn't be unwelcome.

The man was silent now. He must've realized his innocent act was getting him nowhere. Finally.

"What do you want?"

Now, that's what Marco wanted to hear. He broke into a victorious grin.

"There we go. Now, was that so hard?" His voice was soft, head cocked to the side, mocking the man in front of him. Taunting him. Marco knew his mannerisms would get to him. He dropped his voice to a more serious tone for what he was to say next, though. He meant business, and he wanted that fact to be evident. "I want you to tell me everything that you know. Tell me the lists, the names, the plans. I want the others involved, I want to know how many people are out there who are killing with the king's orders. I want to know what you were told, what you were commanded, when, where, and why. And I don't want any bullshit."

A brief silence followed as Marco's words sunk in. The man looked defeated, and Marco was pleased to finally be getting somewhere.

* * *

 

Jean could only watch in awe as the man began to spill. Rothstein, his name was, but Jean couldn’t bring himself to think of the man as such. No, that’d give him too much humanity. A name. No, he was just the man. The man who killed for the luxuries of royalty, the man who shifted to slaughter families, the man who was restrained in a chair, awaiting judgment from Marco.

This man was not human. Nobody that cruel could be.

He began listing off the information Marco had demanded from him. First, his the names of the next families he was to target and kill. Next, the other shifters he knew.

He got quiet after that. Marco didn’t look too happy. Jean wasn’t too happy either.

All those names… there must have been at least ten families on that list. Ten families struggling to survive, all on a list to die.

Why did they deserve to die? Why did they need to die, when there was a greedy king and murderers running about that could take their place?

They could take their place. There was a whole business dedicated to fucking becoming titans and killing people. Wasn’t that what everyone was supposed to be fighting against? These people could die. These people didn’t deserve to live, to take lives just to be rich.

These people were sick.

“I know that’s not all you know.” Marco accused.

“That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

A silence fell on the room again. Did he seriously have the nerve to just say that? Jean looked at the man, feeling a mixture of incredulous and angry as fuck.

“Excuse me?”

Judging by the tone of his voice, Marco felt the same.

The man didn’t respond. Jean took a step forward, eyes ablaze, glaring.

“We don’t want your fucking sass. You will tell us everything you know. Your orders and everything about the king, his plans.” He demanded.

Marco’s anger melted just slightly when he turned towards Jean, shock replacing it. But he couldn’t help himself. There was only so much bullshit he could take from this piece of shit before he snapped.

And the man had the balls to stare back at Jean.

“Sudden burst of courage? Let’s not forget which of us is tied to a chair, and which of us has blades at our disposal. You have some fucking nerve-”

“Jean,” Marco cut in.

It wasn’t a warning, nor even a signal to stop. It was more of a concern.

His face had softened a little, but that softness was lost as soon as he turned back to the man in the chair. He was getting brave, getting smug, the little bastard.

“He’s not wrong.” Marco fumed, reminding the man of his position. “Now talk.”

The man was conflicted now. Less like he wasn’t willing to talk, and more like he knew something was going to happen to him if he did.

“Don’t worry about what they’ll do to you if you talk. Because if you don’t, I promise you, we’ll do worse.” Jean warned, voice low, dangerous. Why did Marco have to do all the talking? This man had to know that this wasn’t a one man operation. He had a lot of people pissed at him and his disgusting actions.

Another silence. This wasn’t a confident silence, though; the man valued his life, but obviously knew he was facing two sides. One would hurt or kill him if he talked, the other would do the same if he didn’t. The guy was screwed.

And Jean didn’t give a shit.

From the looks of it, neither did Marco.

One flash of a blade later, and the man was facing the cold metal pressing up against his throat, handle held by Marco.

“I’m, really not in the mood for this today.”

The man seemed to still, not daring to move for fear that the slightest movement could cause the sharp blade in front of him to pierce right through his skin. Marco had the power to end this man’s life right now.

Jean should have felt a little more uneasy about that than he did.

Fear mixed with confusion and anger, and all were evident in the man’s face.  

“I-I won’t tell you.” He stammered out. Marco pressed the blade forth, creating a tension on the man’s neck, but not yet drawing blood.

They remained locked in a silent staredown- Marco stern and furious, the man frightened yet determined.

If Jean let himself think about this, really think about this, it was such a messed up situation. Here was Marco, the ringleader to this crazy torture circus. Weapons and restraints at his control, and a helpless man in the chair in front of him.

Except he wasn’t helpless. He was a ruthless killer. Hell, Jean had heard Marco listing the names of the people, the families he’d killed. People with spouses, with kids, people with their own families. Children. He’d killed children. And all for a taste of the lap of luxury, just like Jean had wanted before. Just for a taste of the interior.

Thinking about it that way, it was easier and easier to believe Marco was in the right. It was easier and easier to believe that this man wasn’t human, and didn’t deserve half of the same courtesies and kindness that human beings would be awarded.

Thinking about it that way, it made Jean angrier. It brought back that rage from before, the same that made him step forward and stare the man down from beside Marco.

“You have killed innocent families for money. Children. You don’t have the choice not to talk anymore. You don’t get that privilege.” Jean seethed, voice low and dangerous.

Marco’s eyes flicked towards Jean again, that same concern passing briefly through them. But, he didn’t seem to disagree as he tightened his hold on his blade.

“He’s right. Now talk, or bad things are gonna happen to you. I’m sick of waiting.” Marco threatened, that dark voice once again returning. He kept a pretty serious tone throughout this whole session, but he seemed fed up now. And that was dangerous.

“You won’t hurt me, you need me for information.” The man dared.

“You wanna test that theory out?”

“If you were gonna hurt or kill me, you would have done it-”

He was cut off by his own scream of pain.

"You were a runner, right?" Marco questioned after he slammed his blade down on the man's right leg, almost slicing it clean off. “Capturing families so fast they didn’t even have a chance?”

Obviously there was no response other than the groans of pain coming from the injured man.

“Talk.”

If someone were to tell Jean a month ago that Marco would, that Marco could do this, he wouldn’t have even tried to believe them.

But now, in the heat of the moment, Jean just wished Marco would take the other leg too.

* * *

 

Marco had managed to wrangle quite a bit of information from this guy earlier, but now he seemed intent on not talking. Well, he seemed like he tried to say a bit more now that his leg was… well, off, but it couldn’t have been easy through the pain.

All Marco really cared about though was that he’d gotten a little hint at how the king operated, how he thought and how he commanded. He’d gotten other names- both people to go after and people to look out for. He’d gotten what he needed.

About an hour later, Marco left one of his teams to deal with the man in any way they pleased. He was partial to killing himself- did taking a human life make him any better than the king and his demons?- however, he couldn’t deny that these people didn’t deserve an ounce of kindness.

He didn’t care what became of Rothstein. He was a bumbling idiot anyway. All Marco was concerned with was making sure the man wasn’t able to tell the tale.

Well, actually, there was one other thing he was concerned with.

Marco’s team had dispersed around the building after he’d left the other team in charge of disposal. They had time to gather themselves before heading back to get some rest, and according to watch, they had nothing to worry about.

Jean was leaning against a wall, just kind of staring into space. Just thinking.

He’d seen a lot in the past hour or two, a lot that was most likely very new to him. Marco had to make sure he was okay.

“Jean?” He called softly. This was not the same voice he’d been using just twenty minutes before.

He heard a grunt in reply, and it seemed that it took Jean a moment to recognize him before answering for real. “Oh, hey Marco.” He finally replied.

It was a casual answer, though. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary, nothing sounded wrong at all. It was odd, but also… also kind of comforting.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. After all that. It couldn’t have been easy to be around.” Marco got right to the point, wanting a straight answer. He just wanted to know how Jean felt.

“I wanted you to kill him.” He admitted softly. “I wanted to kill him. Still kinda do."

Marco walked over and propped himself on the wall as well, eyes flicking between Jean and the lights of the city in the distance.

Jean's response wasn't necessarily what he was expecting, but it was one he could relate to. And, although it sounded horrible, it was one he was kind of glad to hear. It meant he and Jean saw eye to eye on this.

"I can't blame you. What he did was awful." Marco agreed.

"More than awful! What he did was wrong, inhuman- how could you even stand to walk out of that room-"

"He will be punished Jean, don't worry." Marco reassured. Judging by the sudden redness on Jean's face, the subject could get him heated pretty quick. Again, that was kind of a good thing if he was really going to be a part of the rebellion. "Just because I choose not to have his blood on my hands doesn't mean that he's going to walk free."

"I know... I know. I don't really know what I was thinking..." Jean trailed off in thought, obviously conflicted. His voice sunk from its loud, angered tone to a more subdued, unsure one now. "I used to tell myself I'd never kill anyone. So no matter what happened, what kind of shit went down, I could always kind of stay... I don't know. Innocent? Not that, but like, I wouldn't have that kind of shit on my conscience. And there's never been anyone I wanted to kill." He paused and laughed dryly. "Not even Jaeger, surprisingly. But now, looking at that guy, thinking of that guy... I think I'd break that pact with myself."

Marco nodded in solemn understanding. “It’s okay to feel like that, you know. In this rebellion you’re gonna be surrounded by a lot of people like this. People who have done horrible, awful things, and will continue to do so if we don’t stop them.” It was a depressing truth, but Jean needed to know this. He also needed to know he was helping to change this truth. "But that's what we're trying to stop." He assured.

Jean nodded, still seemingly staring off into space though, probably lost in thought. Not that anyone could judge him for that, really. This was a tough reality.

"Yeah... yeah. I know. It's not the rebellion I have a problem with, not at all. I have the opposite of a problem with the rebellion, Marco. It's just... it's just-"

"It's hard to believe people so heartless can exist." Marco finished for him. "It's a slap in the face. First, titans- that truth was difficult enough to accept. But they're monsters. Brainless monsters. You can handle that. But this, these are humans. People attacking their own. It's a much more painful truth."

That snapped Jean from his trance.

He looked at Marco, face revealing how affected he was by Marco's words. And then, he smiled. Not cynical, nor a cocky smirk, nor one of genuine happiness, but one of almost... appreciation? Maybe even gratitude?

"That. That is why I'm standing with you, Bodt."

\----

Marco neither knew nor cared what his soldiers did to Rothstein. So long as he was no longer a concern, and was incapable of ever telling a soul what or who he'd seen, then everything was fine. And Marco trusted his people to do just that.

The journey back to base seemed to take forever. It went smoothly, but it took most of the night, and by the time they were back, the sun was making its way over the horizon. All teams were yawning by their return, and he figured they could all use a good rest. He'd excused them all for the day, including Jean and himself.

While they both probably wanted to collapse immediately on Marco's bed and pass out- or at least Marco did- Jean just didn't seem comfortable enough to.

Again, not like that was a surprise. Oh no, Marco definitely had expected him to feel this way. It was a confusing situation, and Jean deserved proper explanation more than anyone. More than that, Jean deserved a friend to listen to him. Someone to care about him, someone to unload his worries to... Marco was more than happy to be that person, if Jean wanted it.

Neither of them had been keeping track of time, but somewhere around half the day must have been spent curled under blankets simply talking. Talking, sharing each others warmth, providing comfort, all those cheesy things. While it was grim, somber subject matter, it was still a nice atmosphere. It was almost serene.

During a lapse in the conversation, after everything that seemed possible to talk about had been talked about, a calmness fell between the silence of the two.

Staring at the ceiling, it almost seemed as if things were normal. Just a normal day in the barracks, talking and relaxing the day away on a day off from training. Part of Marco wished it was just that. How could he not? The nostalgia weaving through his thoughts was strong. He knew what he stood for, though, and he wouldn’t go back to ignorance. He was just glad to have been able to bring Jean with him.

Almost as if reading Marco’s thoughts, Jean breathed a small laugh and looked over at him.

“Feels kinda like old times, doesn’t it?”

Marco had to return the sentimental grin.

“Yeah. It does.”

Not much more could be said, as the combination of a harsh mission, talking the day away, and emotional strain was quite a stress on the soul. Marco assumed Jean had fallen out about a minute after he said that, but he couldn’t be sure. His own eyes had slipped shut not long after.

* * *

The next few weeks were, in summary, eye-opening for Jean. Yes, he knew the king and the military police were royally fucked up, but he wasn’t so involved as to know how bad it was, nor what to do about it.

He was, with much help from Marco, trained and prepared for the rebellion, for this new purpose, almost as if he were a trainee again. New maneuver gear (less smashing into trees this time around), new missions, new plans and new goals. Rather than killing titans, or even capturing them for study, now it was people he was after. Well, he used that term lightly. They were technically titans, but more than that, they just weren’t human. They were monsters.

There were plenty of information gathering missions. Not necessarily so intense as that first one, but smaller things, often requiring help from the survey corps.

Jean still had to wrap his head around that. Erwin freaking Smith saluting him. Levi and Hange were often there as well, although the former was less likely to salute anyone. Although, Jean could swear he’d seen him salute Marco once or twice.

The survey corps had become essential to Marco’s plans, although outside of the commanders and officials in the branch, it was almost a top-secret operation. He’d be surprised if Jaeger, Armin and Mikasa knew anything about this. Although, that’d probably be a smart move… and they’d have another shifter on their side. Huh. He’d have to pitch that to Marco.

Except Eren’s rage level would probably rise about ten times its normal degree and he’d do something stupid and compromise the mission. Okay, so maybe that’s a no on that one.

It was an entirely new dynamic over here, though. Jean wasn’t really used to being in charge, to being important. Yeah, he’d led squads, but nothing compared to the amount of trust Marco put in him. In just a few weeks, he’d become respected as an officer. Of course, this was almost exclusively due to his association with Marco, but it was... kind of an honor, nonetheless.

Relearning everything wasn’t as cumbersome as it was to learn the first time. Well, that could have been because it wasn’t quite relearning. This didn’t include studies or anything like that, nothing Jean’s future would be dependent on like it was as a trainee. Now, it was getting him up to speed. Preparing him for future battles that were soon to be had, battles against other humans.

He’d always been a quick learner, able to excel when it really counted. And now, now it really counted.

After one especially tiring day, mainly group maneuver training, Jean was shuffling back to his room, more than ready for sleep. He'd been up to see the sun rising above the trees, and he'd reentered the building just as it was disappearing again. It wasn't unusual for a day like this to happen during his trainee days, and from the few weeks he'd spent with the rebellion, he was learning it wasn't unusual here either.

For some reason, most of the higher ranking officers who worked near Marco were away for a few days. Jean didn't know if it were a mission or something; he hadn't been informed since it didn't involve him. It was rare that anyone knew everything there was to know about something anyway. Tactical strategy or something, it made sense. It'd just been he, Marco and one or two others in the officer's room lately. And, technically, Jean wasn't even an officer and shouldn't have been there... but whatever. No one questioned Marco.

The room was usually quieter, which was pretty alluring at the moment, considering Jean was currently almost mistakable for a zombie.

Upon entering, Jean didn't even notice there was someone else in the room. All he paid attention to was the soft bed in front of him. Pillows. Blanket. Yes. He collapsed on it and half thought the soft chuckle he heard was a dream.

"Someone had a long day at training," Marco's voice called from across the room. He was probably sitting at his desk, working on important leadery stuff. If Jean had to guess, he'd assume Marco had been at meetings and such all day, and work like that could get pretty tiring too.

"Tuh muh abough uh." Jean replied, voice muffled by the pillow he'd faceplanted on. He'd been trying to say, "tell me about it," but that hope was gone the second the words left his mouth.

Marco sighed, and Jean could hear the snap of a book being shut before Marco’s voice was suddenly much closer to him.

“Can I join you?” He asked in a voice sounding as tired as Jean felt. Jean only managed a grunt in response, but he figured it was answer enough. Marco was always welcome to pass out from sheer exhaustion with him.

A flop on the bed later and Marco was next to Jean, face buried in the pillow Jean’s own face wasn’t busy occupying. As tempting as falling asleep right then and there sounded, Jean forced himself to turn his head to look at Marco so his words could actually be heard and understood.

“‘M guessing you had a long day too?” Jean mumbled, figuring with how Marco was acting, he’d had a similarly taxing day. A dramatic huff of air answered his question, and Marco turned his head just enough to be able to explain without his words disappearing into the pillow holding his head.

“Meeting after meeting, writing upon writing- lists, plans, just… I know it’s important, but sometimes it’s just…” he trailed off his sentence, deciding a better conclusion for it would be to shove his face back into the pillow and groan loudly.

Somehow, that groan translated into more for Jean than he thought anything Marco could say would.

“I understand, man. I understand.” Jean related. “Care to join me in a nice round of ‘Pass Out From Exhaustion And Sleep For Twelve Hours?’” He was already reaching a hand down to slip his boots off as he asked.

“Yes. Please.” Marco agreed, mimicking Jean’s action and lazily reaching to remove his boots. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t stuck wearing the maneuver belts as well. Lucky bastard.

Jean was pretty tempted to just stay in the clothes he was wearing. That is to say, he didn’t want to get up to grab some night clothes. He also really didn’t want to stay in his sweaty, smelly, awful clothes from the day. The struggle.

“Hey Marco, how much do you love me?”

“What do you want?”

Oh Marco knew him so well.

“Wanna grab me some night clothes?” Jean flashed him a pretty, innocent little smile to help his cause.

“But that means I’d have to get up…” Marco whined.

“You’re leading a rebellion against the king of everything we know. You can get up and get your best friend some clothes.” He argued, earning another whine from Marco, who was currently flipping over. Not getting up, but flipping over at least.

“No. Get them yourself.” He apparently decided, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, stripping now, are we?” Jean teased.  He couldn’t miss the opportunity. Also, Marco’s face went almost instantly red. It was beautiful.

“Shut up!” He squeaked, only momentarily pausing before continuing to remove his shirt. “I don’t plan on sleeping with a shirt, do you?” He questioned, and Jean found it too tiring to argue anymore, even for the sake of teasing. For one, Marco was right. And secondly, he looked fucking good without a shirt, scars notwithstanding. Jean wasn’t about to complain.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean dismissed and continued ripping off his straps as quickly as possible, not really caring at all whether or not he kept them neat.

It was quiet for a while after that. Marco had settled for relaxing on his back after his shirt was off, and Jean wrestled with his belts for at least another five or ten minutes before taking his shirt off too. Except he didn’t stop there. If he wasn’t getting night clothes, then he sure as hell wasn’t gonna sleep in these uncomfortable pants.

And there was the end of the silence.

“Um- what are you doing?” Marco asked, uncertainty lacing his words.

“Stripping. To entice you. Is it working?” Helplessly in love or not, teasing Marco was just too fun not to do. Marco’s awkward silence was priceless. Fuck relentless leader of a rebellion, Marco was a flustered little mess and Jean loved it. “You’re not getting up. I’m not getting up. Underwear it is.” He explained a little more realistically now.

Marco groaned in response this time. “Well I’m not moving. So I have to sleep with you while you’re in your underwear?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Kinky.”

“Oh my god, stop!” Marco whined, realizing the trap he’d set for himself. He promptly rolled back over to hide his face in the pillow.

Marco was fierce out in combat. He was someone to be respected, to be feared, to be listened to. But, he hadn’t changed. He still got embarrassed when Jean talked about dirty things, he still hid his face, he still laughed the same way, he still smiled almost constantly when relaxed or not working. He hadn’t changed much at all. All the things Jean loved about Marco were still there, plain as day.

“Alright, well you can stay in your nasty pants. I, on the other hand, will be comfortable-”

“Jeez, alright, alright! I get it, no pants!” Marco laughed, still probably embarrassed, words muffled through the pillow. Slowly, he turned back around, laying on his back again.

Jean was comfortably down to his underwear at this point, and awkwardly positioned on the bed to tug at the blanket at their feet. “Move, Bodt! I wanna get comfy. Also put out the lantern.” He demanded.

“Didn’t know you were a commander, Jean.” Marco sassed. Rude little shit. Jean loved him so much.

“Shut up and just move!” Jean whined, and felt Marco shifting on the bed.

“Give me a minute, jeez!” He protested, and… wait he was taking his pants off too. No, no that wasn’t allowed.

“Wait, wait what are you doing-”

“I’m stripping. To entice you. Is it working?”

The sass out of this man’s mouth, fucking hell. Jean was a little more focused on the fact that Marco’s pants were coming off too now, though. No. That would not work. Maybe, if they weren’t both too lazy to sleep in their own beds, the maybe this would be okay. But Jean would be in the same bed with Marco. Both in their underwear. In an otherwise empty room. At night. Oh that was not okay.

Marco looked really good in underwear too. Jean would know. He’d gotten boners from that more than once.

“I didn’t ask for your sass, alright? Are you really so lazy you won’t go get some damn night clothes?” Jean criticised, only partially aware of his own hypocrisy.

“Well so are you! And we’re both tired!” He protested as he pulled his pants down. Past his thighs, to his knees, to his ankles… and then they were off. And they were both in their underwear. And fuck Marco looked good. “Is that a problem?” He asked, almost challenging Jean to protest.

But all Jean saw was the spattering of freckles across his chest, freckles that he’d counted many times before when drunk or sleepy. He saw Marco’s toned chest, his scars from his “death” only adding to the appeal of his strength. He saw the trail of dark curls past Marco’s stomach, disappearing into the fabric covering… oh boy. And then his thighs, freckled just as much as the rest of him, probably really strong… Jean would bet Marco could ride his brains out using them.

Wait, fuck he wasn’t supposed to be thinking things like that. Not when there was only a thin layer of fabric covering his dick, which was feeling a little happy at the moment at the sight of Marco.

“Yes…” Jean answered, boldness from before quickly faded away. Marco must have thought it was a joke, as he just smiled and huffed a laugh in return.

“You’re weird. I’m putting out the lantern now.” He said simply and reached to the table next to him to do as he’d announced.

And FUCK Jean got a perfect view of his ass. Holy fucking hell, never was there a more perfect ass in existence. Jean stared until suddenly the room got significantly darker. Oh, right. Lantern. He turned around quickly before Marco could, and catch Jean’s blatant staring.

Don’t think about Marco’s ass, don’t think about Marco’s body, don’t think about dirty things about Marco. Just don’t, Jean. Calm yourself.

Moonlight filtered in through the few windows scattered throughout the room, and Jean could still make out Marco’s face, but the rest of him was more shadowed. Thank god, that was the only thing helping Jean to calm down a little. He sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment in himself at how quickly Marco was able to make him hot.

Marco turned back around to rest facing Jean, his eyes already drooping closed. This was a sight Jean had seen so many times- back in training, almost nightly in the barracks, in the bunker they’d rested up in when returning from their “mission” all those months ago. He looked so small when he was sleepy like this- not bad, but… innocent. He looked innocent, peaceful. His face could convince you that everything was alright in the world.

His breaths slowed, body relaxing into a sleepy rhythm, and just these small involuntary things calmed Jean down as well.

Actually, more than that. Marco’s very presence soothed Jean, and had for years. He’d questioned the nature of their relationship long ago, but now there was no doubt what Jean wanted.

Marco wasn’t a little crush. No, Jean’s attraction to him began long ago. And it wasn’t sudden either, but rather, subtle, building through each day, each interaction. It was a slow burn, so slow that Jean didn’t even notice it was happening until he realized- he didn’t want to live without Marco. Not saying he wanted to die if Marco was gone, but more, he never wanted to be separated from him. Marco was sure, safe, comfort, security. Marco, in the time that Jean had known him, and had the privilege of being his friend, had become his home. Jean felt home when he was with Marco.

And these feelings, while not in any sense new, were kind of taking over him at the moment. The sheer amount of affection, of love he felt for Marco was a little overwhelming at the moment.

His face must have shown it, too. Marco opened his eyes a little, and at the sight of Jean, immediately widened them.

“Jean? Are you okay?” He asked, voice still obviously sleepy, but with concern evident.

And yet, Jean couldn’t find it in him to answer. Because he just wanted to tell Marco everything. He wanted to unload everything onto him, tell him exactly how he felt. But he didn’t know how well that would go. So he stayed silent. Marco didn’t seem like he liked that much.

“You look kind of pale… Jean, please talk to me? Are you okay?” He pleaded.

Jean took a deep breath, figuring he at least owed Marco a simple answer. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He assured.

Marco didn’t look persuaded. And Jean wanted to tell him so badly, he wanted the truth to wipe that worried look from Marco’s face. But… what if the truth did more than just that? He didn’t want disgust to replace his worry.

“Something’s on your mind, I can tell,” Marco prodded.

Once again Jean forced himself into silence, eyes flicking around Marco’s face as his thoughts and feelings threatened to consume him. Finally, his gaze landed on Marco’s lips.

He’d spent a good portion of his time staring at those lips, memorizing their curve and fantasizing about their softness. He’d been drawn to them when Marco would dart his tongue out to wet them, or when he bit his lips in moments of uncertainty.

A moment later and he had to force his eyes back up to Marco’s eyes, a feature no less enchanting. Even in the dark, they shined impossibly bright.

He didn’t know why now, of all times, he decided he was going to feel so strongly. He’d been able to keep it repressed in favor of more important things. But for some reason, tonight, it all came spilling out. Maybe it was some side effect of his exhaustion? Or maybe he was simply tired of hiding himself. He wasn’t entirely sure, but what he did know was… wow… he really wanted to kiss Marco right now.

“I…” he began, but trailed off, and he couldn’t help his eyes flicking down to Marco’s lips again. This time, though, he noticed.

The room suddenly became warmer, and Jean was both hoping and dreading that Marco finally understood.

A silence filled the room- not one of discomfort, but one of thought, that seemed to settle in the crevices of their minds. Marco didn’t speak, but neither did Jean, and Jean’s mind was whirring, filled with possibilities and what-ifs.

The silence continued, and Jean realized he’d been staring at Marco’s lips for much too long. Way, way too long, he had to have noticed. When his eyes rushed back up to meet Marco’s, he noticed Marco’s gaze had shifted downwards, down to Jean’s lips.

They were close now, both on their sides, facing each other and only mere inches apart. Jean could feel Marco’s breaths, mingling with his in their shared space.

And then he couldn’t take this silence anymore. It begged for action, for something to break it and give way to, well, something.

So he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Marco’s.

Marco was obviously not expecting that, Jean could feel his surprise, but he was too caught up in the moment. His mind stopped for a good few seconds. Everything stopped existing to him except Marco, the feel of him against his lips. And then reality caught up to him.

Wait. Shit. No, he wasn’t supposed to kiss him. You don’t just kiss people out of the blue. Scared he’d just seriously fucked everything up, he made a frantic effort to pull back, and was already preparing his apology.

Except he couldn’t pull back. He was met with a small noise that he was positive wasn’t his own when he tried, and before he knew it Marco’s lips were following his own. And then there was an arm around him, stopping him from pulling back, and instead pushing him closer to Marco until he was flush against him. Marco was holding him there.

Marco… was kissing him back?

* * *

 

Marco kind of stopped functioning for a second.

Those were Jean’s lips on his. Jean’s. And it wasn’t a dream this time. Or, at least, he hoped it wasn’t.

But he wasn’t about to let Jean break this. No, he finally got what he’d been dreaming of for so long, he wasn’t going to let Jean pull back with a head full of worries and regrets. Marco wanted this. And now, out of some miracle, Jean wanted this too.

Marco’s hands remained on Jean’s back, keeping him close, holding him, making sure he knew damn well that what he was doing, what he was feeling was reciprocated.

At some point, Jean must have accepted this, because he stopped being surprised that Marco kissed back and instead brought an arm to wrap around Marco’s hips.

It was a bit of an awkward position, lying down like that, but Marco didn’t care at the moment. He had other things to concern himself with, such as the feeling of Jean’s lips slanting against his, kissing him over and over again as if he needed Marco’s lips to live.

Finally, Jean pulled away, breathing heavier than normal. Marco figured he’d gotten the message, so this time, he let it happen.

Marco was left wide-eyed, staring at Jean with his arm still wrapped around him and searching for words.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really, really long time,” Jean finally said, voice breathless.

“Me too,” Marco agreed.

“I don’t really want to stop,” Jean admitted, no shame to his words. They were both too caught up in the moment, in the fact that they shared each other’s feelings, and that this was now reality to care.

“Me neither.” Marco almost whispered, and pulled Jean back to him.

Their lips met again, and the room began heating up around them, filled with musical little sighs and moans as they continued losing themselves in each others mouths.

At some point, Jean ended up on top of Marco, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as Marco gripped his back to hold him as close as humanly possible.

And they kissed for what was probably hours, sharing each others heat, and just reveling in the unspoken love between each other. Years of bottled feelings poured out in this one night, in the way they held each other, in the way they kissed each other. Neither seemed willing to stop, either, until finally, breathless and still exhausted from the day, they pulled apart.

And, finally, limbs tangled up in some position to hold each other as close as possible, they drifted quickly to sleep, ready to greet the next day with new energy, enthusiasm, and power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm taking so long to update!  
> I guess I'm still kinda in my writing block, but i wrote the last 8 pages of this in the span of 3 days, which is really good for me! So maybe I'll get into a good writing schedule soon? Maybe?  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! They're finally together, yaaaaay!!  
> And probably no one was wondering this anyway, but yes, there IS a pretty big contrast between the beginning and end of this chapter purposefully. Remember, dark!Marco and dark!Jean are still the outcome of this story!  
> And I won't annoy you with more rambling, kudos/comments are very appreciated, and thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"But of course! You said so yourself. Once upon a dream."_  
>  _-Prince Phillip_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this in a year... dear god I am so sorry. This chapter is eventful though, I promise!

The weeks following had gotten intense.

About a month had passed since Jean had confessed his feelings to Marco, and since Marco had reciprocated.

Days were filled with training, preparations for missions and meetings. Nights were filled with missions on busy days, and passion on lighter ones. Jean and Marco snuck into their room, behind walls and in empty meeting rooms when they could, taking breaks from the stress of this underground war to get lost in one another.

This was quickly turning into a war. The soldiers had been used to war against titans, but against humans was a prospect almost unheard of. Weren’t they supposed to team up as a whole, humanity versus titans, to take back their world? That’s what people like Eren thought, that’s what people like Armin dreamed of. But people like Jean knew that wasn’t their reality anymore, it couldn’t be. People like Marco were brutally forced into this new reality.

Marco knew this conflict was going to turn into something more. He knew the king wasn’t going to lay down and accept that people were sick of his bullshit; Marco knew this was going to be a fight. But it had escalated into something bigger than he’d imagined. Which, while more of a fight was never something he’d wish for, this battle was becoming too huge for the king to hide. People were going to find out, civilians were going to uncover how corrupt their king was, and maybe, hopefully, just enough of them would be just as repulsed as he was, or just as repulsed as Jean. And maybe, just maybe, there’d be groups of people that would revolt, that would rebel against that tyrant.

Maybe Marco would have to make some more room at Base.

Either way, the king couldn’t hide this forever. He’d try to paint Jean and Marco as criminals soon enough, and he’d spread lies about Marco’s group. He’d call them heretics, criminals, anarchists who only wanted to cause chaos and ruin this good kingdom.

The mere thought could make Marco laugh. Of course,  _ he’s _ the one who wants to cause chaos. Murdering people, creating your own titans and paying people off to kill for you? Perhaps that was just a fun royal pastime now.

As the weeks progressed, the Base seemed in a constant state of work. Intelligence missions were almost daily, and more and more of their people were in danger of entrapment, and some had tragically been captured. The king knew to expect them now. And while Marco wanted his soldiers safe, he also wanted the king to know that they weren’t going to rest.

However, more entrapments also meant more rescue missions, more teams sent out when they could be resting up or training, more resources being depleted.

But they were prepared for this. If it was a war the king wanted, a war he would get. 

After Marco got some much needed sleep, finally. The near constant meetings and missions wore him out, and as much as he tried not to show it, as much as he tried to be strong for his soldiers, it was getting hard to hide. That, and there was one person who would always notice- Jean.

“Jean, get out of the way. I have to go check on how team fifteen is doing.” Marco had commanded- or, had attempted to command- Jean, the night prior. He was too busy for rest.

The bags under his eyes, coupled with disheveled hair and clothing, must not have made him as fearsome and commanding of a leader as he had hoped. And besides, he wasn’t like that to Jean anyway. They were equals, they had always been equals. No amount of war could change that.

“No. You’ve been up for almost two days, no amount of tea and caffeine is going to keep you up and running, let alone be healthy for you. You need sleep.” Jean retorted, tone more commanding than Marco’s without even trying. Marco pushed that knowledge to the back of his mind, though- he didn’t have time for sleep.

“Sleep is for the weak, let me out Jean.” He tried sidestepping, but Jean stood strong in front of the door. And then he was chuckling, which only made Marco more disgruntled.

“As cute as you are right now, no. Sleep is for everyone, strong scary rebel leaders included.” Jean insisted, and nodded over to what was now their bed.

“I’m completely awake-” Marco had tried to argue, but his sentence was cut off with a yawn. Dammit, nothing was working for him that day. Jean just grinned at him until the contagious yawning reached him as well.

“I’m gonna crash too. Come on, lay down with me?” Jean tried a new approach, and Marco couldn’t deny that request sounded enticing. Warm bed, warm boyfriend- he definitely wanted that. Plus, Jean’s sweet tired voice always got to him. Marco had broken fast.

He hummed in vexed compliance, wanting to continue his argument, but unable to deny Jean. First off, Marco knew he was right, and secondly, Jean asking to cuddle was too good to pass up. Middle of a war or not, there was always time to cuddle.

Marco pouted, part of him knowing there was so much to do, and that there wasn’t time to sleep. But, he knew Jean was right. Better to sleep then, wrapped in strong arms, than to pass out at a meeting or something. Especially if Levi was there… Marco could’ve shuddered at the thought. He ranked a couple positions higher than Levi now, but the man was still scarier than Marco could ever be.

Rubbing at his eyes, he couldn’t deny he was tired. Actually, finally acknowledging it, he became more tired than ever. 

Jean took Marco’s hand and led him over to their bed. He was already in night clothes, however Marco was still dressed in his uniform, even though it was messy as hell. His eyes were already shutting as he trudged over to the bed, and he was fading fast.

“Come on, let’s get these clothes off of you.” Jean said, and any other night, in any other context, Marco was sure he’d add a suggestive chuckle, or wink, or eyebrow wiggle or something. But now, with Marco basically falling asleep standing up, Jean was just doing him a favor. Marco lazily lifted his arms up so Jean could rid him of all those suddenly-much-too-heavy clothes.

He moved as little as possible as Jean removed his jacket and shirt, and stepped lazily out of his boots and pants with Jean’s guidance. He barely even registered anything that was happening until he was left in his underwear, feeling just a bit chilly now.

“Do you want night clothes?” Jean asked, almost having to hold Marco up now.

Marco mumbled a weak response, shaking his head and shuffling over to the bed.

“And you tried to tell me you weren’t tired.” Jean patronized, smirking as he went over to his side of the bed. Marco waved him off, yawning again.

While Jean climbed in, Marco just kind of flopped onto the bed, wrapping himself haphazardly in the blankets he could reach. He was already falling asleep before he was even fully on the bed. Once he’d gotten settled, Jean opened his arms, and Marco scooched back automatically, snuggling up against Jean. The last thing he recalled before passing the hell out was those strong arms he loved wrapping around him, embracing him.

* * *

 

The next day was similar to most days- meetings. However, this one brought some particularly interesting news, and perhaps an opportunity that could end this battle before it escalated into war.

The grand meeting room was used for this one. An intelligence group had just returned from the castle, announcing that what they’d learned required a large group meeting, requesting the presence of as many officials as possible. While a bit inconvenient, the findings of this team were incredibly important, and no one dared protest the gathering.

The room had a typical setup, large table in the center with numerous chairs surrounding. Survey Corps officials already occupied a section, Levi, Hanji, Erwin and Mike all sitting together towards the front of the table. Several members of importance in the Rebellion Sector sat opposite them, and other officials and teams occupied the rest of the seats. Given the size and importance of this session, extra chairs were set up around the room as well to accommodate the additional attendees. 

Marco entered the room accompanied by Jean, an unsurprising occurrence these days. They took their spots at the head of the table, a hush falling upon the room as they waited for the intelligence team to begin their presentation of findings.

Sometimes it felt weird being the “head of the table.” Logically, Marco knew that was his rightful spot as leader, but that position still felt strange. Sometimes he still felt like a soldier, like he was supposed to be taking orders rather than giving them. Especially when someone like Levi was in the room. But, still, Marco was happy to take on the responsibility of the position. Someone had to lead this rebellion.

He could still wish that the people in the meetings didn’t feel like they had to immediately silence themselves when he entered the room. Some things just felt too official.

“Alright, meeting in session.” Marco announced. “Intelligence Team Twelve, please announce your findings.” He said with a curt nod, leaning back in his chair and awaiting to hear the news. Under the table, he reached for Jean’s hand, and tried not to break his professional character by smiling at the resulting blush it earned him.

A small group of people stood up, about eight in total, all in uniform and one who appeared to have sustained an injury during the mission. Marco made a mental note to check in on her later. 

A woman who appeared to be the representative of the group pulled out a notepad, and began to speak.

“On the night of September the fifth, my team and I arrived in the interior wall, Wall Sina, on mission.” She began, the typical procedure for announcements like these. “We were assigned to spy on the Military Police, to discover in any possible way, any plans they could have related to the rebellion. We followed a cart to a building, of very high security, and with great help from Soldier Abigail,” she looked towards the injured soldier, “we were able to infiltrate the building and listen in on what we can assume was an MP meeting.”

Marco subconsciously leaned forward. That was… interesting, to say the least. 

The following information was everything it had been built up to be. Useful was an understatement… this could be their chance. Even if this was all a set up, his team would be prepared, and would succeed anyway.

* * *

 

Jean kept quiet during the meeting. Professional. Nodding along, paying attention to the soldiers, and more so to Marco.

The opportunity to infiltrate an MP gathering would be amazing, and to be honest it just sounded too good to be true. And, Jean knew the saying about things that sounded too good to be true, very very well. It just… no way this could all be true. First off, even with how good he knew Marco’s teams were, was it really possible for the Military Police to not notice them eavesdropping? Was it even possible to break into a Military Police meeting if it wasn’t a set up? Even with the news, Jean just couldn’t help but be skeptical.

Afterwards, Marco had gathered his best teams. People were scrambling all over the place, cramming in some training and frantically organizing strategizing meetings. And, Jean could understand why, but he couldn’t help but feel a little wary in the back of his mind.

He was torn, though. It wasn’t as if he were dead set against this whole plan, he was all for fucking up the MP and the king. But he was skeptical by nature, internally pessimistic when it came to this stuff.

Marco wasn’t the easiest person to reach for a while, being in charge of, well, everyone, basically. It was a good few hours before Jean could get to him. He had to wait for a few meetings, but he caught Marco in between one and another.

“Marco, I need to talk to you.” Jean got right to the point. In times like these, it was better not to play around, to be straightforward.

Marco was obviously busy, rushing around trying to organize everything, but he stopped. For Jean, he always made time. 

“About what?” He asked, voice surprisingly calm in contrast to his body, which seemed forcibly stopped in motion.

Stepping closer to him, Jean grabbed Marco’s hands, wanting to warn him but also not wanting to see him stressed like this.

“About this mission… I don’t know if we should rush into it like this.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction of some sort from Marco- a protest, excuses, reasonings, anything. But, he got nothing but patience. Marco was simply waiting for Jean to continue, to explain. He nodded his head, as if willing Jean to continue. So, he did.

“It’s just, it’s the Military Police, Marco. They’re the elites. And, I know we have elites too, but… I don’t know. This opportunity seems too good to be true. Could our soldiers really infiltrate a meeting without them knowing? What if this is all a set up?”

He voiced all of his concerns in a breath, and Marco nodded solemnly before smiling softly.

Of all the reactions Jean expected, that was not one of them.

“Thanks for coming to me, Jean. But you don’t think we took that into consideration?”

Jean was both surprised and relieved, hearing that. He must have shown this, as well as confusion, on his face, since Marco proceeded to explain.

“This definitely seems too good to be true. But, if it  _ is _ true, then this opportunity cannot be overlooked. We can get to most of our enemies like this, and begin real work to overthrow the king. We’re preparing all teams for battle, both a surprise attack on the MPs and a possible ambush. We’re bringing out our best fighters, and shifters. No matter what the king has, we’re prepared. The raid was a difficult decision to make, Jean, but I didn’t decide to go through with this single-handedly. We’re ready to take down the king.” 

Marco’s voice was calm despite the pressure he must have been feeling. But, he was obviously sure of his plan, confident in his actions. And, wasn’t that something that made a good leader? Jean, of course, was still skeptical. But he trusted Marco. This wasn’t the innocent, naive, idealistic Marco he’d once known- he was the same Marco, yes, but he’d grown so much from that.

Sighing, Jean allowed a small smile to cross his face. Maybe not all of his worries had been eased, but he knew now that Marco wasn’t going into this blind, he was smarter than that.

“Okay. I’m trusting you here, Bodt. Don’t let me down and get killed again.” He joked with dark humor. Sometimes, things like that needed to be said to cope and keep on moving. Jean was glad that Marco understood that as well.

Rolling his eyes, Marco moved in for a chaste kiss, both to Jean’s pleasure and disappointment. Would he ever deny a Marco kiss? Probably not. Did he want more than a little peck?  _ Hell _ yes. And, that must have shown on his face, too.

“I’d gladly give you more, Jean, but I’ve got a shifter meeting to get to. Someone’s gotta organize our biggest weapons, right?” He reasoned, to which Jean couldn’t protest. “The Survey Corps are holding an organization meeting as well, maybe you could go to that?” He suggested.

If anyone else said that to Jean, he’d probably tell them to fuck off and let him be lazy. But, for one, this was Marco, and also, it was important. The leaders of the Survey Corps were powerful, skilled, intelligent, and proud allies to Marco’s rebellion. It wouldn’t hurt to attend a meeting for this thing. After all, it wasn’t like Jean was planning to stay back.

No way in hell was he going to wait in this castle while a fight like that was going down, hell no. If Jean got a chance to get at those assholes who hurt Marco in the first place, then damn straight he was going to take it.

Without mercy.

* * *

 

Marco was glad he and Jean were on the same page here. He felt kind of bad that he couldn’t accompany him to the Survey Corps meeting, but he had about four other places to be. Plus, he and Jean were a team, no matter how much Jean may have doubted his leadership skills in the past. Marco trusted Jean to go to that meeting and contribute like a rebellion leader. Because, next to Marco, that’s what he was now.

After they’d parted ways, Marco went to meet with the shifters for more planning and strategizing. They’d all been trained well, whether by Marco and the rebellion leaders or by themselves in months or even years of wandering around as titans. Their anger against the king had been building, and all they needed was a good plan to put that anger to work. Marco was happy to help, to assist lost souls in finding themselves, and getting the revenge they’ve been rightly searching for.

A gathering of the MP elites with royalty, the king and several other high officials of this corrupted kingdom?

No way they were passing this up.

The king had to be stopped.

\------------------

Jean felt kind of odd, out of place even, being in a room filled with the Survey Corps’ best as their equals. Levi, Hange, Erwin- all were there. As Jean walked further into the room, he saw some faces that he hadn’t seen in a long time, and that he hadn’t been sure if he’d ever see again. Jaeger, Mikasa, Armin, Connie and Sasha, Krista. Not Ymir, though. He wondered where she was for a few moments, but was quickly occupied with a welcome.

“Welcome, Commander Kirschtein. We’re glad you could join us.” Erwin greeted.

Jean was taken aback by the words until he noticed a clear difference between he and the others- they were in typical Survey Corps gear, a uniform he hadn’t worn in more than a month now. Jean was obviously different, not just dressed in the symbolic gear of the rebellion- mostly black, lots of red ‘x’s everywhere- but with additional dress which symbolized higher ranking, similar to Marco’s status.

He really was a commander now.

He’d thought about that a few times before, but it’d never hit him like this. Typically he was beside Marco, learning just as much as his soldiers. But, he had held a similar amount of responsibility in the time he’d been there.

Snapping out of his initial shock, Jean nodded respectfully at Erwin and sat down.

“Thank you, Commander Smith. You may commence the meeting when you please.”

He gave permission.

_ He _ gave  _ permission _ to  _ Erwin Smith _ to do something.

Well, that wasn’t a thing he ever thought he’d do in his lifetime.

* * *

 

After several meetings, Marco walked through the halls to go find Jean and exchange information from their meetings. Also maybe to get a little, quick alone time. After all, the raid wasn’t going to take place for a few days, they had to wait until a day before the gathering was to take place. For now, finally there was a break in the chaos.

He first went to the Survey Corps meeting room, and it looked like it had recently ended. A few Rebellion soldiers walked out, whom Marco greeted, followed by Jean. Noticing Marco, he went up to him, the expression on his face somewhere a mix between proud and overwhelmed.

“How’d it go?” He asked, both wanting to know how Jean was handling this and curious as to the content of the meeting.

“It… it went. It wasn’t bad but damn, how do you contain all that information?”

Marco snickered, glad that Jean at least seemed to be handling the responsibility well.

“Notebooks, Jean. Nobody ever said you couldn’t take notes.” He retorted, both teasing and giving a friendly tip. Jean didn’t think he remembered all the contents of every meeting by _ memory _ , did he? Although, sometimes he was forced to if he was pressed for time, but still. Jean narrowed his eyes at that and ruffled Marco’s hair in return, a common retort for when Marco was being kind of a smart ass. “Alright alright, Grumpy. Let’s head to an office or something so we can talk.”

* * *

 

The next few hours were spent trading information, switching between Marco’s shifter meeting, soldier debriefing, knowledge sessions and more. Jean listened; although it was difficult to get behind these things and keep track of them, he tried his best, wanting to take responsibility as well. He wanted to be able to work efficiently- er, well, more efficiently than he was now- beside Marco, and be an admirable second in command.

Plus, being together now- well, whatever their relationship could be defined as- it could sometimes be difficult not to get distracted with thoughts of normality, of being a normal couple that did normal things. As always, though, Jean had to shove any romantic thoughts to the back of his mind. There was no time for the luxury of those kinds of thoughts in times like these. Titans alone had been bad enough, but this was a whole other level of awful.

Forcing himself to focus, Jean kept up his air of professionalism. It was easier around Marco than around the others, as he knew he didn’t have to act, and that he could just be without being judged. But, still, situations like this called for a certain amount of acting. Too much emotion could set anyone off. Too much emotion got a lot of soldiers killed.

Talking to Marco had always been easy, like breathing. It was natural. It felt right. But these words, words of battle and war, of planning raids and fighting strategies, that wasn’t as easy. Jean had to force it to be easy, and logically he knew this was necessary- they were on the good side here, the moral side- but war against humans? In this state of humanity, such a thing was still unheard of until then.

Until then.

Everything until then.

Jean was more than grateful to have a chance to be a part of this rebellion, to be with Marco, to fight against real evils here. But it was an indisputable fact that this wasn’t something any normal person could handle with ease.

And, behind Marco’s strong words and soothing smiles, Jean knew he thought the exact same thing.

“We’ll shift to get the rest of you over the walls easier. We have ins on patrol, as you know, so it won’t be as risky…” Marco continued, Jean hanging onto every word and storing it away in his brain.

He could ignore those feelings in his chest. War sucked. Allowing corruption was worse.

About an hour had passed, the exchange of information entwined with  passing smiles and soft brushes of each other’s hands.

And then they were interrupted. Discussing battle plans was one thing- on its own, it was a rather peaceful activity compared to many other things a rebellion could include.

This interruption brought the worst.

“Captain! Pardon my interruption, but intel just came back with disturbing news on the enemy.”

It was a cadet- Marco’s rebellion had cadets now- on report duty, something easy enough for a newbie to handle. But, Jean could tell by the look on the poor guy’s face that this was nothing that anybody wanted to hear. 

Marco was calm, as always, but his face held a professional sternness that Jean respected the fuck out of. 

He seemed to be the only one who could see through that polished mask Marco always put on.

Nodding at the cadet whose eyes flicked between their clipboard and the two officials, Marco urged them to go on. 

“There have been more population shifts recently. A soldier under cover in an official hospital in Rose reported suspicious activity. A family who reportedly had been struck with sickness for months, perhaps up to a year, disappeared under the guise of death by their illness. Among investigation, these individuals were found-” the cadet stuttered, having kept up their formality for so long, but unable to continue. They took a deep breath. “The individuals were found with traces of poison in their body. When brought up with employees at the hospital, inquiries were immediately dismissed. The hospital managers were then sought out, and intel was met with various threats if they said anything.” 

The cadet’s voice had long since turned somber, along with their face. Jean’s, however… Jean’s face was alight with rage.

“So the king had a family killed again.” Jean said with a bitter incredulity, repeating the facts.

He didn’t know how Marco was so calm.

“What was the reasoning behind this killing, Cadet?” Marco asked.

Logically it was a good question. Sometimes it was because they opposed the king, or spread (mostly true) rumours about he and his clergy, or because they had too much to say about titans, or about the Military Police.

Biting their lip, the cadet took a moment to answer. 

“Intel suspects it was… they were taking up too much resources, being ill for so long.” 

Silence.

“There was a mother… she was devoted. She roomed with her three children and husband. They… they were all…”

Eyes red, the cadet was clearly holding back tears.

“Thank you. You are dismissed.”

The cadet was out of the room before Marco had finished his sentence.

But his words held a bite to them that Jean hadn’t heard in a while. He didn’t have to ask Marco to know he was beyond furious.

Closing his eyes, Marco took a deep breath, obviously trying to retain some calm here. Jean, on the other hand, was not so good at hiding his anger. As much as he could try to control his emotions- sadness, love, whatever- anger was not so easy to tame. 

The silence around them was uneasy, but filled with a certain energy, a certain charge that would most definitely lead to a snap. 

Another innocent family. Jean clenched his jaw. Children. A mother, a father. A nasty coverup for another nasty, vile deed. They hadn’t done anything “wrong”- the king usually killed to defeat opposition. Still shitty, but different than this… what crime was it being sick, seeking care? How the fuck could he still be getting away with this?

And if he could get away with poorly plotted murder… what else would he try?

How far would he go?

Suddenly, any opposition Jean had previously harbored to Marco’s plan, his raid on a royal gathering, was gone.

“What. The fuck.” Jean finally spat out. He couldn’t bring himself to say more.

Marco’s eyes were downcast. He didn’t respond.

* * *

 

Marco’s mind was set to 100 miles per hour after the news, though he forced himself to remain strong, to remain a leader. He didn’t need to rile everyone up when they couldn’t do anything about it for days.

He’d instructed intel to remain low with this. If word got out, then it got out, and he wouldn’t punish anyone for being curious about information- after all, he wasn’t the king. He just didn’t want a panic to break out.

Things among the base seemed to be running about as smoothly as usual, which was a good sign.

Things among he and Jean, not so much.

It wasn’t their relationship- their bond had always been strong, and it would continue to be in these times. But the two of them both had this god awful knowledge, and knew there was nothing they could do for the next few days. They were charged, fueled with rage, but with no way to release it. They both had to stay calm and be role models for the other soldiers.

Marco noticed that Jean was making himself scarce. It wasn’t surprising, though. Marco had never known Jean to be the kind of guy to put on a happy face to cover his anger. Jean was the kind of person to let you know damn well he was pissed.

Marco didn’t have the option to do the same. Well, at least not as much. He had places to be, people to talk to, things to plan. He channeled most of his rage into battle plans, deciding to be merciless on the MPs and the royalty. 

What he’d feared had come true before- the time away from battle, away from news, had made him almost forget the evils they were up against. But now, now he was painfully reminded. They were up against a murderer, a cruel murderer, someone who killed families because he thought they were using too many resources, someone who slaughtered opposition. Tyrant was an understatement to the king.

Nights were nice. Nights were with Jean, when the pressure of meetings and being a commander dissipated. He didn’t have to act around Jean.

At nights, they could be pissed together. They could speak in bitter, spiteful voices in between sweet kisses. Marco could allow his eyes to fill with fury, and pain, and sorrow- and then fade to affection as Jean validated his feelings. Marco could share the experience of Jean’s flaming eyes until they closed with the contact of lips. They could stomp around, they could raise their voices, they could be furious together- and then transfer that heated energy into each other with touches, kisses, words of reassurance. 

They were leaders of a rebellion. But they were still human. 

\--

A day before the raid, Jean was uncharacteristically quiet.

Soldiers were doing last minute preparations, but overall they were granted a free day before the mission. Rest was important.

Marco was walking back from a meeting with the Survey Corps leaders to finalize plans, heading to he and Jean’s room to get some rest themselves. But he wasn’t planning on letting Jean’s behavior go. He could be shy at times, nervous even with all the responsibility, but this was a bit of a concerning amount of quiet.

Jean walked next to Marco, but there was such a stiffness, an unusual sort of tension between them. Marco didn’t like it.

They walked in long strides down the corridors, mostly empty now, and finally got to the room that had long since become their bedroom. Marco opened the door and held it for Jean, and once they had their privacy in the enclosed space, Marco spoke.

“Jean-”

“Marco-”

And Jean apparently had something to say as well.

It was better than silence. Marco waved Jean to go first. The look on his face was somewhere between determined and apprehensive.

After taking a deep breath for courage, Jean spoke.

“I’m coming with you on this mission.”

Marco should have expected that. They’d agreed- although Marco could see Jean’s reluctance- that while Marco commanded the raid, Jean would stay and hold down the base. It was important for someone to be in charge here… but Marco wouldn’t lie to himself. Jean would be safer here anyway. They didn’t need the castle to know that two of their prisoners had escaped, that there was more than one who knew first hand their repulsive acts. 

He knew he should have handled this calmly, but he was responding before logic could do its job in his mind.

“No. You have to take charge here, the cadets need a leader to hold down the fort-”

“Someone else can do it. Marco, I’m coming with you.”

This was a first. 

In all the time Jean had been here, he hadn’t interrupted Marco like that once. Maybe it was his position as leader, maybe in Jean’s mind he commanded more respect this way. Jean hadn’t spoken like this since they were cadets about to go into the Military Police.

How naive had they been that their dream was to become a part of them... 

“You have enough trustworthy people who can take charge, Marco. I could name ten of them right now if you wanted. We have a chance of getting back at those bastards, I’m not letting you go alone-”

“I’m not gonna be alone-”

“I’m not leaving your side anymore, I refuse-”

“You can’t come with me Jean.”

It was turning into an interjection match now, voices rising in volume and emotion clear in their words.

Marco thought back to their days as cadets, when Jean would do some pretty reckless things in training. And then, then to their first clearing missions against actual titans, missions to save people and survive themselves. It had always been Marco’s job to distract while Jean went in for the kill, but his actions, his decisions were often dangerous. Smart, yes, but at any moment he could’ve gotten himself killed. Marco remembered the fear he faced every time they went out, wondering if that day would be the day.

In the castle prison was no different. When Marco would be taken away, his thoughts went to Jean- did they take him too? He wouldn’t be so compliant, he would fight, he wouldn’t think before he acted. He’d do something dangerous, but something genius.

Jean was intelligent, Jean was incredibly intelligent. But he never, in all the time that Marco knew him, considered the consequences of his actions.

Normally that wouldn’t be a huge problem- you said something you didn’t really mean, you did something stupid, you sprained your ankle because you didn’t think that cool trick was kind of a bad idea.

If Jean did that now, though, it could result in his death. 

Marco didn’t think he could bear that.

But Jean kept fighting.

“Bullshit, Marco, I am not letting you go without me. I have just as much of a grudge against those assholes as you do, and I have just as much business being there as you do. When has splitting up ever done us good?”

Jean raised good points. His voice said angry, but his words said devotion.

Marco didn’t want Jean to come because he didn’t want to lose him. Jean wanted to go for the same reason.

Taking a deep breath, Marco lowered his guard, shoved his stern tone to the side. Genuine always worked better with Jean.

“You’ll be safe here.” 

His eyes flicked from the floor, up to meet Jean’s. That determination was still there, but now understanding made its way through.

Marco could read Jean like a book, like the most beautiful book in existence. Also the most stubborn, but that was besides the point. Marco continued.

“It’s gonna be dangerous out there, Jean. You’re good in dangerous situations, yes, but you always disregard yourself, and… what am I gonna do if you get yourself hurt doing something heroic?”

Jean must not have considered that point before.

Of course. Never thinking of his own safety, even when he once claimed that was all he really cared about.

“You have just as much a chance of getting hurt.”

Marco shook his head, stepping closer to Jean.

“I’ll heal, Jean. I’m a shifter, remember? But you-”

“I’ll have a big, bad shifter by my side to protect me.”

And, enter the confident smirk.

Marco really wasn’t gonna win this one. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up just yet.

“Jean… I- I can’t let you go with me. You could get seriously hurt, I might not be able to protect you. The guard will be after you the second they know you’re there…” His eyebrows furrowed in concern, wishing Jean would just let this one go. Just this once, he wished Jean would lose that stubborn nature of his, just for a little while.

Wishful thinking.

“What, you don’t trust my skills?”

“No, no don’t turn your words around on me. Of course I do, I just can’t take the risk, I-”

“I can handle myself, Marco,”

Jean was argumentative, yes. Jean got snippy when he didn’t get his way immediately, yes. But, for an argument, he was being surprisingly… calm. Genuine. He… he really wanted to be a part of this.

“But what if-”

Marco was cut off by a swift movement. Before he knew it, he was pressed against the wall of his own room by strong hands, secure arms that wouldn’t allow for escape, a sword dangerously close to his throat. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

He wanted to fight this. He wanted more than anything for Jean to be safe. 

But he had to admit, that was a pretty convincing point on Jean’s part.

Jean looked up at Marco, confidence gleaming in his eyes, knowing he’d basically just won this argument. If he could take Marco off-guard like that, he could handle himself in battle.

Marco knew that. That didn’t mean he wanted to admit it.

But, at this point… he didn’t seem to have much of a choice. Jean didn’t give him much of one.

Sighing, Marco closed his eyes, raising his hand to gently push the blade away. Jean lowered his sword, returning it just as swiftly to his holster- they hadn’t removed their gear yet from early morning training. Marco would just have to deal with putting in some extra effort to make sure Jean stayed safe. But, with his skill, doing so likely wouldn’t be hard.

“Why do you have to be so god damn stubborn?” He murmured, to which Jean smirked, face melting into an odd mixture of satisfaction and affection. 

Jean lessened the distance between them, pressing himself against Marco.

“It’s part of my charm.”

Marco snorted, rolling his eyes before wrapping his arms around Jean’s waist. 

“You better promise me not to get hurt.”

Marco pressed what he’d intended to be a soft, quick kiss to Jean’s lips. It became a little more than that, lingering a little longer than it had to.

“No dumbass MP’s gonna hurt this beautiful specimen right here.”

And back to the snark, just like that. Marco knew Jean well, but he never ceased to be amusing.

Marco got serious again for a second, mind flashing again to the possibility that something might happen on this mission.

“You better make sure of that. I… I love you too much for anything to happen to you.”

It wasn’t the first time Marco had said that, or the first time Jean had heard it. But maybe, just maybe, this time it got through to Jean how important his safety was. Jean’s arrogant air faded away, showing his understanding. He nodded.

“I promise, Marco.”

* * *

 

8 AM.

Wake-up for Jean and Marco. Wake-up for the soldiers, for the visiting Survey Corps members, for everyone in preparation.

Breakfast.

Meetings.

Training.

Last-minute prep, confirming plans, gathering gear.

2 PM.

Lunch. For those who could stomach it.

Rest. Important for emotional prep.

Last-minute confirmations with the Survey Corps.

Everything was in place.

3 PM.

The meeting was at 7.

That gave the teams four hours. Four hours to get to the walls, to get to Sina, to infiltrate the castle. It was a stretch, usually a mission like that would take longer, but with titan travel and teams like these, with gear equipped with greater ability for speed, and with sheer determination from anger, it was possible. 

The atmosphere around the base could only be described as a calm before the storm.

It should have been bustling, but it wasn’t. It should have been loud, but it wasn’t. There was an eerie calm, a surprising composure covering the feelings of anger, horror, anxiety and anticipation. 

Jean didn’t have to see people shaking and crying to know how emotional they were feeling. He’d grown out of that a long time ago, and he knew Marco did too.

It was time then to get into gear. Jean returned to he and Marco’s room to dress, and Marco was already there, just sitting on the bed.

He looked almost aimless, though Jean knew that most definitely wasn’t the case. He didn’t say anything, but rather silently walked over and joined Marco, sitting on the bed with him and staring at the wall.

“It’s time to get dressed now. Don’t wanna be late.” Jean finally said, trying to prompt Marco to get up and moving. That was probably a stupid move, since Marco knew damn well what time it was, but still.

Marco had been almost eerily still on the bed, but with Jean’s words, a small grin crept across his face. In the blink of an eye, Marco’s entire demeanor changed. From serious, to apprehensive, to… whatever this was. He turned around in an instant and before Jean knew what was happening, Marco was on top of him. All Jean could do was stare with wide eyes at Marco’s devilish grin before those lips smashed onto his own.

Jean was incredibly confused, though he couldn’t say that he was complaining. After a second or two he turned his head, and Marco moved his face back in response. That grin remained on his face, though.

“What the hell was that for?” Jean asked breathlessly.

“Excitement. Thought some of that would be nice before crushing them tonight.”

Marco was so sure about all of this, and it was making him bold. Jean liked this side of him. And, he was never one to argue with some nice making out.

Grabbing the back of Marco’s hair, Jean pulled his face down so their lips were almost touching.

“I agree completely.”

* * *

 

Everything, though a bit rushed, was precisely planned. Soldiers grouped in teams, everyone aware of their job, and everyone eager for a fight.

Only a few were left at the base. The newer recruits remained with a few superiors who stayed behind. Everyone else was out.

The only thing you could hear out there at first was the galloping horses and sound of maneuver gear clanking. The ground units left first, leaving Marco behind in charge of the shifters and units they would be carrying.

“On my lead!” Was the only thing he had to yell to them.

Was he nervous?

No. Surprisingly, no. 

Marco was eager. Eager to put this to a stop. Eager for not only revenge for himself, but revenge for the dead families, and eager for justice. 

He looked over at Jean, who had a confident smirk on his face. Marco had missed that.

“You ready?” He asked Jean, although his face already said it all.

“You know it, babe.”

With that, they took off, running, a hoard of shifters behind them and Jean and Marco proudly leading them. Marco grabbed Jean’s hand then.

They exchanged grins as Marco brought his free hand to his mouth, leading his army.

All it took was a little speed.

And a bite to his own hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the worst case of writers block. For like a year.  
> I'm so sorry guys (if anyone still keeps up with this)  
> I'm just not as into this as I was at the start and I've never done such a long fic before. I planned it out but not as much as I should've. But I promise you I **WILL** finish this fic! There are only a few chapters left anyway, but shit gets real. And I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea when I'll be able to write it let alone when it'll come out. But I will get the rest of this fic out eventually, and I promise to try and get it done in a timely manner!

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll try to post new chapters maybe every week or two? I'm trying to stay a chapter ahead of the game so I don't fall behind. Comments, kudos, and really any kind of feedback is very appreciated! Also I have a [tumblr](http://thefloralpeach.tumblr.com/). if you wanna contact me there too!


End file.
